The Well's End

I fear this is the end.
It's all over now.
Girls will cry,
Guys will too, though they won't admit it.
I cried, my tears soft streams
Of impulsive waterfalls
Dampening my cheeks,
My lips, my chin,
Where each drop of my
Salty soul lept from my body,
Like each memory that ran
Across my reminiscing mind.

For I took a journey
Inside myself,
I found the well of my memories.
And I looked inside the well,
I looked and looked and then I fell,
Deep inside the well,
Where musingly I began to dwell
In thoughts so sad,
And others quite swell,
Yes long and happy did I dwell
Down there inside my well.

Until sadly, abruptly, regrettably
And infuriatingly,
I reached the end.
I struck the bottom of my well,
And some strange current,
Swift and unrelenting,
Carried me to the water's surface,
As my arms, too short, too weak,
Reached out to grasp the muddy floor.

My head broke the flimsy surface
As I gasped for air,
Wishing, wanting to be back down there,
Breathless and still,
Subconsciously aware of
My life in full,
Everything for which I once cared,
And loved.
And I cried.

But I suppose this well is
Still half empty;
Perhaps it's alright, or even necessary,
To pour more water-memories down to
My aquiferous mind.

But still I think, and I believe rightly so,
That an end now would be so,
So much easier,
So less filled with pain.