Her mind is like an ocean;
flowing through fluid memories,
drowning in her own thoughts,
anchored to the sadness that lies deep within her being.
She forgot how to swim;
she forgot how to breathe.
Her screams are a silenced cry for help,
but no one can save her.

The waves crash down upon her,
pushing her further beneath the surface.
Realizing she is amongst the unknown;
fearing her own imminent tragedy.
She was once aboard the ship of hope,
sailing to be free from all worries.
She was shoved overboard without any sign of notice,
using nothing but her fingertips to hang off the side of forgiveness.

Reality was the only thing keeping her afloat.
The truth outweighed her consciousness;
and graced with the inability to be happy,
feelings became an unavoidable current.
She sank into a dark abyss;
quite unafraid of its lack of light,
hearing the voices of a chilled imagination,
soaking in ounces of polluted water from all sides.

Although tears continued to stream down her face,
they weren’t significant.
Her tears were nothing but small drops;
small drops in a very large ocean.
She refused to fight the tide.
The more she fought, the more her condition worsened.
Her struggle was beneficial to her personality,
and dreaming became a nautical alternative to life.

All she wanted was to discover an Atlantis of her own;
a sanctuary for misfits and lost causes,
a place where she could feel again,
for all she wanted was to feel something; anything.
She never washed up on shore.
She never got to tell her story.
After all she has been through,
to this very day, she remains;
Anchored.