I dove in not knowing how far it would go,
The deep end called me with a silent echo.
No float, no guide, just waves and war—
Dreams like anchors, pulling from the core.
Currents of chaos, cold and unclear,
Whispers of doubt swimming near my ear.
Every breath a gamble, every stroke a prayer,
In oceans of pressure, success feels rare.
Bills like barnacles cling to my skin,
While time drifts by with a shark-like grin.
I chase the shore that keeps pulling away,
Another promise breaks with the dawn of day.
Friends turned fog, love lost at sea,
Even hope feels heavy when you're barely free.
But I keep paddling through storms and scars,
Counting my faith by fading stars.
Confusion dances in whirlpools of thought,
What if the life I dream can't be bought?
But still I grind, with lungs full of fire,
Fuelled by the hunger, haunted by desire.
No map, just muscle. No calm, just climb.
I tattoo each failure with rhythm and rhyme.
'Cause maybe—just maybe—at the far tide’s bend,
I’ll rise from the silence and breathe at the end.
The deep end didn’t drown me—it taught me to swim.
Not every loss is a loss when you learn from within.
And when I emerge, soaked in the fight,
I’ll be the storm they feared in the night.