Being emptied suddenly one day.Feeling the joy, that tingle when things are good, drift away; and reaching out to retrieve it but it drifts further and further from your fingertips.

Then, in that water on which the happiness floats, you begin to sink. Falling away, bit by bit, until you are submerged in the black, icy waters.

They do not pity you or weep for you; But condemn you.

The worst thing of all is seeing those figures moving like shadows on the land. Bright and happy and breathing just fine.

Your lungs are being squeezed for oxygen while they lap it up and you should be happy for them but you're not. Because you're wondering why they aren't helping you up. They can see you but they aren't trying to save you, they're just watching you sink into oblivion. The happiness can no longer be your raft it's too far away.

Nothing can save you, nothing can relieve you until the water fully closes over your head and your body succumbs to the deep.

Her pen flutters across the page, she is creating a work of art, she said. She is writing a poem.

Words weaving in and out, breaking apart and eloping. All the while she bleeds onto the paper.

His pen marks the page with precision, he's creating a new world, he said. He is writing prose.

Words delicately fall into place, meanings weaving in and out. All the while, his tears hit the paper and become ink.