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 me 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 som 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 those winter nights but the ropes only tighten round me as I try to fight there's no worth throwing stone in a wishing well now I'm out of black ink and true tales to tell
and I know it's all poetry, know they're just lies but I'll still scavenge on what I find inbetween those lines I'll pretend there was happiness, fake to've felt pain just to feel there's a reason to read it again