Today I walked to the pier
And I stared into the water
And I wrote and I wrote
I wrote nothings and everythings
And I let some tears out
And I reflected and I laughed a bit
And I had a good old think back
Over everything
Over and over again
And I was afraid that if I stopped writing
I would dive in and swim
Until I couldn't swim anymore
And maybe the water was a much more
Fitting death than a leap
From a tall library window
Or one feet first in front of a train
But I'm about to finish writing
And despite all my failures
And disappointments
There's something faint
Telling me to keep going
And I don't know what's worse:
That I don't know what it is,
Or that I so desperately want it to *******.