I'm walking on a river of happiness I can't baptize myself in,

the participants around me indulge in it like gods and goddesses, day and night, 

constantly showing me, prodding me, to participate with the participants so that I don't become an insignificant, immigrant who can't stop being hesitant and just be an...indulgent.

Don't just monitor my arms you judgmental walking graves who speak nothing but a healing that bleeds me into a death that kills me softly,

Instead humble yourself and be at someone's own k(need|s) for once and see the shackles of depression around my ankles, which clasp around me so tightly that I forget how to feel,

these steel(steal) my strength to the point of weariness that I want to stop, but if I halt it will freeze me with a coldness cooler than your sparkling water,

all in all to kill the barely audible breath that barely escapes to voice out the scream caged by the clawed fingernails of anxiety, who hovers, parading me above your river like the catch of the day,

like a trophy with no metal as a message that I'm not a reward but a simple punishment of existence that I can't seem to keep track of, such mockery.

My silence is loud, yet you still can't hear me.