Can't
I can't claim to sing like Israfel,
Or play like Orpheus on lyre,
Or write like Edgar Allen Poe,
Living in the wilderlands of Wier.
I can't claim to be myself,
Or find myself at all,
Courage is what has bound me,
Fear is what makes me fall.
This terror that so blinds me,
It's claws ripping out my eyes,
Will give up as soon as it finds,
One with no eyes cannot cry.
This uncertanty that ties me,
In a sea of can't, won't, would,
When it sinks fangs in my neck in reality,
Is sucking out it's own blood.