Analysis of Attempts

It's dark but not pitch black,
I'm here in awe and amused,
There are waves roaring,
Each gushing attempt to reach out,
To inch just a centimetre forward,
Feels like a failure,
A rejection, a denial,
The splutter in their poise,
Getting angrier and fiercer by the second,
They come close, just a moment away,
And I see, the seawater is black,
There is no end to the horizon,
Just some flickering lights far away,
They inch closer,
It's getting started, the massacre,
Scarier the size, more petrified am I,
I move, my feet start trembling,
Backwards, searching for a rescue,
With no direction, sense or purpose,
I run, only to realise,
I'm sinking,
The sand, though fine, surrounds me,
The feet, then the knees,
Suddenly an abyss, I'm down by the chest,
I stop moving, and start drowning,
Only a hand left, from elbow to thumb,
And then, I stopped writing.