Drifting alone, thoughtless and void.
No air here, just the dark,
Smothered by the tangible,
Encumbered via nature.
A plea goes unheard in this oblivion.
No sound escapes, no cries are made;
Just a form sifting and sinking,
Blind to the world,
Useless to the machinations of the everyday,
Sacrificed to death itself
And soon to be forgotten—
Naught but a form resting in the depths,
No different from you or me.