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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Personal · #2080006
If you can take the pressure, it is your duty to continue on.
A diver, submerged in the murky depths of the sea.
All around him, mounting pressure threatens to crush him, to leave him broken.

But his suit is strong, like he is.
It holds back the pressure, seals him from it.
You cannot be broken, oh little diver, not in your suit.
Death cannot touch you so long as you are protected.

But what happens when the pressure is too much?
Nature cares not for your pathetic attempts to hold her back.
You dare to venture into her depths, and her retribution is swift and brutal.

So, little diver, you think you can handle the pressure?
Then have some more
and more,
and more.

The suit cracks; at first, only slightly.
But the pressure builds steadily, as he mindlessly walks towards his oblivion.
He need only turn around, to spare himself from the crushing abyss.
But he thinks pressing on makes him strong,
If he could take the pressure, it was his duty to press on.
and he does.

The cracks spread and form spider webs in front of his eyes.
He can't see the outside world any longer, not through the cracks.
Darkness surrounds him, but he continues on.
Pressing on, and on and on.

He marches on like a dog, on hands and knees.
Pressure builds without a care for his wellbeing.
He chooses to move on anyway.
Crackling fills his ears, like the sound of dry, dead leaves underfoot.
The inside of his helmet feels hot, like a furnace.
Baking him from the inside.
The pressure builds.

Finally, he can move forward no longer.
He is pinned to the ground by a weight a thousand times greater then he is used to.
Only now does Mother Nature finally stop adding pressure.
Now, his only movement comes in the form of labored breathing,
His heart beating.

The blackness from outside seeps in.
The little diver is devoured.
His chest stops moving, his heart stops beating.
His suit is still intact.
But he is broken.
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