the same word rolls off my tongue
but what use is there to repeat myself?
my words bubble to the surface,
but as they rise they lose their sound
these murky depths trap me
in the misery i have built for myself
and the realisation that this trade-off
was ultimately my last self-sabotage
is what finally sets off my screaming
words won't do
they've never been enough
my only hope these wails depicting
my torment make it to someone's ears
but what is the point?
if someone outside these onyx depths were to hear
this voice that carries such lament
and they reach out their hand to help me
it'll be like shaking hands with the devil himself
for i will only be transferring this suffering
to another helpless vessel
my pleads turn to song, alluring
and i see you, on the shore
what great suffering in those eyes!
but is it your own story,
or the result of hearing mine?
should i reach out to you,
should i wait for you to reach out to me?
either way, the outcome won't change
one of us, whether it's foolish you swimming
to the source of the tragic song
or me, turning away to spare you
before i change my mind,
will float within these freezing waters
yearning
until we sing our last note
