Seahorses don't blink

Confined in my own spaces
hands pushing the cement walls
looking for a window,
a crack of light.
There's hardly space to breathe.

Stuck in a tunnel
of despair.
the only sound is the dripping of liquid,
that hollow lloneliness

That sound echoes with each second passing by.
All is silent but the dripping.
drip
drip
drip.
With each fall, a wasted moment.

After several suns rises and rain falls, I'm still alone.
I cannot believe I am alone,
plastered into a cement mold,
stuck.

What have I not given?
How have I not tried hard enough?

There is no one.

seahorses float by on the ocean floor, and some hold on to seaweed with their tails.

And they are always alone, just
swaying in the swishing of the ocean water. They never blink, do they?

I'll miss life if I don't blink, so maybe I'd do better as a seahorse attached to some grass, unblinking.
Or just floating.

I never wanted to settle before this, but I am discarded, unwanted, a waste.

They say a fantasy is healthy; it inspires actions.
My dreams are old and rippened and unpicked, at the bottom of the sea somewhere, lying solid next to the floating seahorses.

Don't blink, don't blink...
just float,
and feel nothing.