'til it fathom out

Saddened twice,
or maybe fourth.

Here I come again.

Drowning once,
or maybe none.

I might've been drowned ever,
thus the suffocation,
like a siren singing,
melodies as smooth as silk,
too beautiful to resist.

Moon shines dimly a far,
droplets of warmth spread over.

Unrevealed yet crawled.

Perhaps a decade would help,
or an oath would,

'til it fathom out.