Lakenfri sone

It's hard to tell
whether I'm sinking
or floating

because apparently I'm sinking
in the depths of foolish gloating
for even when the water's clean
and warm and comfy, safe and green
the sudden contrast grips around
my neck and pulls me deeper down
that's how my hope is shrinking.

Yet still my lungs, they fill with air
despite the guilt and fierce despair
that also takes up place inside
my chest and chases any pride
that possibly could still be left
and so, with achy breath bereft
I'm captain but not boating.