I swim in my own thoughts
that surround me,
thoughts that I can't think
                                   --just feel.

They numb my mind:
not there, but at the same time,
                                        --real.

I'm afraid to think these thoughts,
afraid of what I might discover.
I'm tempted to sleep through the darkness
and let the sun dry the pool
                                --I swim under.
 
Scared if I look hard enough,
I might see my reflection; 
I might have to admit my sin.
Scared I might find your face under the water,
                                   --deeper in.

Your reflection I try to drown
with all my thoughts,
but the harder I try
the more you keep floating up.
And if I pull the plug
                           --and drain my head,
they will flow
straight to my heart
and push against the wall, weakening 
                                    --its part.

So, instead,
I have to close my eyes
and swim in the dark.