The Fight

The pool so heavily encompasses me,
I cannot find my way out of its hold.
Each crushing wave puts me deeper than before,
Until the weight is too much to bare.
Where is the bottom of this wretched sin?
I'd sooner want that than to fight for the top.
For this 'fight' is consistent and strenuous.
I'd rather lie upon the ground, while the mass,
So heavy and dark, lies heedlessly granulating me.
My use seems gone, but yet also available,
But only for the price of the 'fight',
The fight I inertly disregard.
This struggle has its rewards,
But they often seem short of the fight.
Perhaps the concluding goal is worth the fight,
But my weakness causes me uneasiness.
My solution would be to solve my weakness,
And to solve weakness, I'd need strength.
Where is this strength I helplessly wander for?
Depressing, yes I know,
But real to all who fight.

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