An eternal darkness for none to see,
Other than myself.
Drowning in this ocean day after day,
But none coming to rescue me.
I lay there at the bottom,
Rusted chains grasping my neck,

Would you come see me, maybe come check?

As time goes on, as it always does,
Oxidized chains holding me ever so tightly,
Never letting me leave that forsaken place,
And never letting me forget that day,

I’ve been drowning here and bound by this metal fray.

My body kept walking day in and day out,
But my mind was drowning at the bottom,
Pondering, wondering, crying, and writhing,
Every minute it was trapped.

Maybe someone will see where my soul is kept?

As time goes on, as it always does,
The chains began to weaken,
And the once frightening thought of being locked and shut in,
Started to loosen and fade.

After all this time and all that I’ve prayed.

A wound that was left, deep in my back,
From someone I once loved.
That person tied a boulder to the bottom of my shoe,
And dropped me in the ocean.

What could cause someone to have such heartless emotion?

As time goes on, as it always does,
The rock that once held me there started to weather away,
And the weight that kept me from floating back up,
Started to disappear day by day.

Now is the time to float towards the top, through the water like a ballet.

The chains that once bound me have now broken,
And the boulder is now sand.
I feel by body floating towards the surface,
And I get my first gasp of air.

I have been freed of my despair.

As time goes on, as it always does,
I am now free from my chains.
Now I wait for someone to rescue me,
And to heal me of my pain.

These feelings, I promise, are not feign.

Waiting is the most heinous thing that time does,
For it gives one hope,
Hope that may never appear,
Hope that may never show.

Dreaming is the most beautiful thing that time does,
For it gives one a sense of escape,
Escape from a world that does not love,
Escape from a place that does not have such landscapes.

Forgiving is the most difficult thing that time does,
For it allows one to pass on,
Pass on from their feelings of ill-will,
Pass on from their feelings of wanting to be gone.

Falling is the most simplistic thing that time does,
For it gives one relief,
Relief that their world may end,
And that their time is complete.

What is it that makes one feel alive?
Is it the times they spend towards careless actions?
Or is it the love they feel from those around them?
The endless days of nine to five,
Or the realization that nothing stays the same?

Are you alive? Asked the man,
But how do I answer?
Do I say I’m dying as each day passes,
Can he read me like an open letter?

As everyday moves on,
I can’t help but wonder,
Why do we live for us to perish?
Is that all we are good for?

Are you feeling alright? Asked the man,
But how do I answer?
Do I tell him I’ve been sick everyday,
Or that I’ve never felt better?

What are we here for,
For a God’s entertainment pleasures?
Are we the main event, I wonder,
That he has been all but waiting for?

Can you hear me alright, Asked the man,
I think you might be fading.
I try to speak up and tell him ever so much,
That I was still breathing.

A lonely and regretful man sat on the hood of his car one crisp December night,
The only warmth he received was from the rumbling engine that worked beneath him.
His vehicle was in the middle of nowhere,
Just off a dirt road that was far from any kind of civilization.
However, this small pull off meant more to the man than any kind of payment in the world,
For it held his heart,
His heart which had been so treacherously torn out of his chest,
Beating and pulsating as he stared at it being taken away from him,
The only place in which he could feel alive again,
In which he could feel blood pumping throughout his body was at this place,
Where he only visited once a year, every year, on the same day,
Years from that day.

This same spot, exactly eight years before, he had met one beautiful creature,
Who had introduced him to a world of many wonders,
A world that the man had never believed to be real,
This being of beauty loved the man, or so he thought,
So he entrusted this magnificent beast with his heart and all his love,
And for a time,
She kept it and guarded it with every fiber in her body,
But as time goes on, as it always does, the two grew farther and farther apart,
And one night they met at this one spot they had fatefully met at,
And she stole the heart of the man, and kept it there.
She promised the man that one day,
She would return and give the heart back to the man,
But until that day he would need to wait.
And so, he waited, and returned every year,
On the same day they had met,
Years from that day.

Now, with him feeling a great relief to be there and feel alive once more,
He couldn’t help but wonder if the Siren would return one day,
Out of the ocean of dying grass,
And choose to not harm him anymore,
And return what is needed for him to continue living.

Every crackle causes him to perk his ears,
Every small movement made him look that direction,
It was like this every time he arrived,
And he would be so paranoid until about three in the morning,
Which was the time he left the night he first arrived,
He continued to sit, time ticking on,
And he began to become more and more concerned,
Believing that this mythical creature would not return,
He looked at his watch, and the time to leave was almost near,
But soon five minutes went past the three on the clock, and he said to himself,
Perhaps I should wait longer? After all, it has been years since that day.