I swear here and now on the river Styx,
I’d never say my life turns out like this.
Fairytales we’re told were never real,
I was Icarus and you burned my wings.
You were my Achilles heel,
you pulled me deep down to the sea.
Like Atlas held too much, my dear,
I gave up on you all to heal.
I sold my soul to ancient myths,
to stories about the first kiss,
and magic worlds that aren’t real,
to escape from the life,
I lived. I find myself in words in deep blue,
write down thoughts for other people,
who never care ‘bout what I think,
til they find my pages filled with ink.
And I bleed on paper, nearly shred tears,
but then through them I wouldn’t see.
I don’t allow myself to weep,
‘cause all the tears would smudge the ink.
And when I awake back to life,
my pages filled with words I write,
I can’t remember what it’s like,
to feel something when it’s not dark.
Back in the evening the world stops,
thoughts fill my head and make a flood.
I wouldn’t bear them if I did not,
fell for the words, entire new world.
And when I’m better I look up at the sky,
page filled with ink next to me on the ground.
I stare at the stars and wait for the time,
I’m healed and don’t find myself back at the start.