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 ...