Quicksand

When will this suffering end?

Will you finally see me

standing in your shadow?

Or will I have to stumble on

alone and wounded,

trying to find something real,

something I can cling to

to pull me out of this quicksand.

Or will I just keep sinking,

the world around me

turning black and closing in

until I suffocate,

trying to pull in air

but only breathing sand and rock

and gasping and gagging

until the end comes

like much needed rest.