the sea anemone in me

So much to get through, so far to dig before I reach the surface. I may get a glimpse of the sun on occasion but the walls of my tunnel are fickle and insecure and crumble for fun if I get too sure of anything. My only hope is that you keep calling to me from above, something in the softness of your voice eggs me on, when I hear it I find a way to keep my muscles moving no matter how tired I grow and how loudly they rebel.