Midnight Inkwell

It almost makes me laugh
To think
Of how deep inside me
This dark well goes.

If you dropped a bucket
Into the pit of my soul,
I'm not sure you would ever,
Ever get it back.

And the water wouldn't be fit for drinking,
And the ink wouldn't be fit for writing with.

And I suppose it makes me laugh
To think of such things,
Because if I don't laugh,
I may cry,
At the truth of how deep my darkness
Lives inside.

I know what they're thinking,
Inside my head:
Such a happy girl in an unhappy world;
We're surprised she isn't
Dead.