Not Enough

An invisible river flows with such fluidity
down my face I’m drowning in the flood
trying to swim with your weight pulling
me down further and further to the bottom
while you are a blind man with no cane.

 

Each breath a knife plunges into my skin
reaching into my soul, but they hit the ground
rattling as I stand with the cuts healing one
by one as I bleed with your back turned.
How deep do you want to go, because
I’ll stand as long as I can.

 

A vacuum of sorts sucks the air out of my lungs
as your foot crushes my body into the dirt
laid across the earth as you plant seeds
trying to grow a new me, but come up with
weeds killing off all your flowers.

 

Each step trying to get closer is another step
farther as my feet stumble and you make
me walk the line all over again until it’s
right, but it’s never right as my line
is zigzagged on the floor while I try and try.
You make it harder than it has to be.
How strong do you think I am?