My Cry for Help

It started as a whisper- minimal, insufficient.
Drowned out by the pungent sounds of those around me.
I desperately sought solace, but none came.
At this point, I was above the harrowing waters of my depression,
entirely able to scream out indignantly if I chose, yet I did not.

Then, I began to sink.
The hazy waters of my sorrows filled every crevice of me.
I was enwrapped.
My soft, yet desperate cry transformed into
mere bubbles rising to the surface.
I was defeated. The bubbles did not attract a single soul.
Yes they were small and they were singular, but they were there-
Visible, though only slightly.

Inevitably, I sank to the bottom.

Now, I am mute.
My voice nonexistent.
My cry eternally silenced.

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