psychic swamp

Trapped in a swamp, surrounded by savage persuaders, cornered by the dangers of my mind. I rise or lie down in the mud; letting myself be slowly absorbed by the thickness of malice. So much difficulty to fight and rise to the surface, to continue fighting against the savages that await me. The temptation to rest is greater than hope, but something tiny begs me to listen. The air around me thickens, cruelly suffocating me. I settle between my future killer, or what I want to blame. For not blaming the true killer of my being: my mind. That prevents me from rising, that only fights to rest, without any strength. That only implores the end of its pain. Now it is up to me to decide for it; and I don't know what I would prefer to do, if I only find reasons to surrender.