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.