Poetry

I'll bury my downcast hours in transparent ink,

Tie myself to the mast and wait here for the ship to sink

Though i know i've set sail on a wishing well

The daylight is dimming out slowly with every breath i take,

Gasps of air become roaring rivers keeping me awake

It gives one no time to think things through.

I know words always come before you do,

But i can't find no poetry left in these lines

I've been trying too hard, too long, too many times

Is this what a biochemist would call happiness?

Is it part of some unmade promise i thought i could forget?

Is it time that i let some air come through?

For now strangeling love is all i can do.

Yeah, i know you have mountains of poems in mind,

All explaining how all wounds will heal given time

But these days are no longer my time to spill,

And i know that by waiting, i'll make them stand still

I kept it as close as i could through through those winter nights,

But the ropes only tightened 'round me as i tried to fight

There's no worth throwing stone in a wishing well

Now i'm out of black ink and i know it's all poetry,

Know they're just lies,

But i still scavenge on what i find in between those lines

I'll pretend there was happiness, fake to have felt pain

Just to feel there's a reason to read it again ...