A thousand what ifs, a thousand one years. A thousand beliefs, a thousand one fears. A thousand what ifs, to thousands of ears. A thousand mischiefs, to the heart waiting here.
People know darkest is before sunrise. But with these what ifs, it's darker than dark. A thousand what ifs and a thousand one sighs. What if my hoped flame was merely a spark.
A thousand what ifs, should I try to listen And think and ponder and even consider, A thousand more chances in my eyes glisten A withering hope or a shot of wonder.
And thousands of ways, I could hope to die, Or live, or feel, or end or begin. And thousands of times, maybe I'd lie To think that it's real or too good a sin.
A thousand and more, should the truth be told, I've thought of and given too much my thoughts. A thousand less more, it was never gold, Maybe I never knew what I wanted sought.
People say darkest is before sunrise, For you I decided to live in the dark. Maybe I like how I lived a lie, Or truth, whatever, you've made your mark.
This was written sometime last year, I believe. Even I'm surprised by this now. I just told myself "What the hell did I just write?" I loathe how I can be overly sentimental at times.