In Too Deep

It's been six years since
I said I would get out,
And I'm still 1450 feet below
the surface of my city's
glitzy downtown skyline.
The tower that stands proud
above all the others -
108 stories they say it is.
Well I've got 108 stories to tell,
and none of them are worth a damn
at this moment.
My life isn't worth anything either,
at least not anymore.
I see the sharks closing in,
The hint of a grin
and the flash of a weapon
as the unpleasant smell
of spoiled seafood irks my nostrils.
I've seen them all:
The snake, the rat, the cat,
and the dog,
But these sharks...
Oh these sharks...
Brass knuckles hit my ribcage,
and then my head.
My eyes begin to fog
as a lone seagull cries out
in the distance.
If my grandmother could see me now,
she would weep.
I'm just another little fish
in a big city.
And I'm in too deep...