From a Dead Poet

Sometimes

Sometimes when I'm sitting, alone, in my bed

I think of my feelings of failure and dread

Will I ever be as good as I can?

My hourglass runs shorter with each drop of sand

I try and I try and I try, and I fail

My future's a boat, that refuses to sail

on an ocean of malice and sadness and hate

this pain is too much, no more can i take

My boat starts to sink, God begins to frown

In my negative feelings i begin to drown

as I sink, i get closer and closer to land

I could make it, if only you'd give me your hand

my worst fear of all is that you mean well

but i dont want to drag you into my own hell

And if your reach down, we may both just drown

until there is nothing, no whisper, no sound