Sometimes the world is cruel.

It beats at your body until you collapse, and then drowns you in your own sorrow and guilt.

You claw at the endless, vast expanse of saltwater, desperate to breathe again.

And when you resurface, you sputter and scream, trying to rid the pollution that overtook your lungs.

Though not all of it leaves when you stumble up onto your feet.

Some of it remains in your core. 

And when the world throws you under again, 

When you regain your form,

It builds up. 

It holds your heart like a vice, squeezing and compressing the spark that once was your soul. Dulling your copper spirit until you oxidize.