The ocean beneath the painted sky

A short poem I thought up while playing some Val on stream.

I harbor waters deep and secrets I can't keep.
I can't stop looking, plunging, delving, learning.
An ocean in each inch, and all of it a page of horror.
The things I do are steeped in that salty wet.
An ocean writhing inside, filled to the brim with tears I never cried.
A sea of meaning and secrets, the deep dark blue blares.
Nothing stays hidden forever, and the mirror at the bottom beckons.
Dare I peek at my reflection available to me at the bottom?
Dare I wash away the paint I layered over years?
Dare I look upon that truth?
Do I any longer have a choice?
Would i come up for air only to find i have forgotten how to breath?
The water has a hold upon me. It holds my very soul.
The paint filling the sky above has forsaken me.
No.
The sky clings.
The ocean thrashes and pulls away.
The waves dance away from my grasp, and the tempest above rips at me.
The ocean holds not my soul.
I am the ocean, the sky is a lie, and the mirror is my eye.
But is the truth worth such a journey
Delving into my harbor, my ocean, my sea.
Will what I find not be more painful than that gorgeous beautiful painted sky.
What horrid strange fish could ever compare to that never ending sunset.
I guess I'll have to sea.