can I walk toward the fire
like a moth to the flame
wearing my yen
having my wings burned
again and again

How many times
can I leave the safety of the shore
swept up in a riptide
over my head
lied flat as a piece of driftwood
on the seabed

How many times
can I weep
till these eyes are pools
a hundred feet deep
big as a mountain
till I froth as a soda fountain
and can't see the trees
or their crimson leaves

How many times
can I scream
till my breath is shallow
my voice raspy
I don’t have an answer
when they’re having to ask me

how many times
can you go on like this?