There’s a small piece of matter in my skull
That refuses to listen to reason.
If I were a sailing vessel, my hull
Would be breached from mutiny and treason.
For no storm came to crash me on the rocks,
No, I was my own foolish undoing.
If I could have escaped my own dark box,
I might have seen that trouble was brewing.
So when it happened, I was blindsided;
From the wreck I could not bail myself out.
But the morsel of hope still resided
In me, hidden underneath all the doubt.
To give into that spark, I do not dare;
That does not stop the occasional flare.