The Fountain of Youth and Lies

I'd seen my reflection in the sweet water, but, down here I know it's stale and shallow.

The surrounding brick wall brings a numb that's a nice rest.
I'm bruised, broken and bleeding sympathetically for my soul, as that numb turns to cold.

The most lucid sky I've ever seen burns down to taunt me.
I can't move, these phantasms can't save me.
This water's getting murky and I've been here too long.
Most of my fear's gone.
I let such an odd feeling of whimsy creep in.
Can it rule me completely, or force me to strive for mindless dissipation to stop all thoughts of whimsy and anything and everything completely?

I have too much clarity still.
Maybe another taste of this mucky, red water will help.

After this brief lifetime of panic, remorse and living with the scars, I've finally proved that I'm real.