The night pours its dark ink, Onto the blank canvas of my day, Peace scampers in a blink, As I gaze through the grey.
I fear the past aghast, And wish for a pleasant present. Yet the future approaches fast, As I stand stuck in cement.
It isn’t a night, they say; It is but just a tunnel. However dark be it may, There’s an end to the null.
Yet every ray of light I saw, With my eyes at a strain, I prepared myself for a maul, As it was sure to be a train.
Never did come the mauling, Nor did arrive the respite. All I could hear was howling, I wasn’t alone in my plight.
The cement became quicksand, And I seep beneath the surface. Desperation drives my hand, As I struggle to save my face.
My hand finds someone’s, A despairing, desperate meet, Alas, it was too little too late, And slowly succumbs my heartbeat.
Purgatory asks me how I was, As they weigh my sins. But they never accounted for my loss, Neither did they care about my wins.
They told me I can choose, Between redemption and pain, And I chose to pay my dues, Only to stand in the cement again.