Darkest hours are always the smallest

I've heard you question yourself in your darkest hours wether the oceans beauty derived from its depths or its reflections, Was it gray or was it blue?

Or was it the glistening image of the moon that captivated you?

I've seen you listen in search for an answer,

While you hold your ears tight,

But have you ever heard the ocean whisper?

You don't think you will but the dark thinks you might,

You don't know where you've been,

And you don't know where your going,

Go ahead, dip your feet in,

Cling to the rocks you're used to throwing,

Because I have heard the ocean whisper,

And I have heard it roar,

I've seen it in wildest dreams and

Ive been below the waves threatening lure,

And now I am under,

Lungs of flames and eyes of fire,

Veins of adrenaline and a mind of wires,

There are no white walls down here,

It's all black and blue,

Just sink to the bottom,

Like all the rocks that you threw,

You also know now where the oceans beauty resides,

Behind broken shells & newly crimson tides

And now only we will understand

when the room goes dark

that to be as wavering as the ocean

you have to fall apart