I am in the depths of who knows where. It is dark, it is cold, it is despair. I am face up in the pool gasping for air. I see no stars, I see no moon There's just the fear that I may go under soon The void which is darker than the walls, tempts me to give into its calls. I hear them echoing in my soul, then my burdens take their toll. I reach out in the cold air, for a helping hand that isn't there. Then I go under, to the darkness of my eternal slumber.
A metaphor for the many things in our lives which seem to assail us without end.
I woke up again And had a day To me I lent I have to stay Lonely repent It isn't mine My head so tangled All the time Can never figure out When to shout Where's the time I spent It left and never came back Live for nothing Over and over Pretend it's something Can't access myself The interface too complex Next Next Next Next
Twenty one thousand, nine hundred and fifteen days, the sum of all my experience, all memory and dream. Days of smiles and of laughter, scattered as they came, interspersed with pain so deep my soul still hears the scream.
Accumulated time filled with things of the important everyday, Through shifting hands of time all things came then hurried on. By heart or minds good reasons were the choices that I made, until now where no good remains and all sense of hope is gone.
My mind will sometimes force a replay of some echo of the past, when hope and love gave purpose to a young man's dreams. Twenty one thousand nine hundred and sixteen days, more recent but so much later, with a soul deafened to all but screams.
Somewhere.... someone.... must know the point of it all.