I'll make it through the day
Without the crutches of breathless blue skies
Waking me up every morning
Another spiral of black ink goes down the drain
Washes away traces of the strain
Maybe it is strength
Holding me together
Or it's a thread
That has grown tired and thin
Frayed and worn at the edge
With thoughts, black and blue
Auburn leaves half-torn
The trees are calm and watchful
Some beauty
In the scenery
But what do you do?
When you can feel joy dissipate
And pain take its place
Like a friend walking away
I'm cold and pale
So I look outside
From my broken windows
Not everything can be poetic
When the fangs are in
There are no blue skies
No red flowers
No jet-black nights
Saving me tonight
From collapsing
From within