Within me there is a heart that is not cold,
Though maybe not made of gold...
I give and I try and I hope,
It never seems to be enough...
And I feel guilty,
Somber, lost, alone, invisible.
Hollow...
I should not feel this way
But it's a cloud over my soul..
On my darkest days...
So here I stand, solemn and alone,
Waiting for these tides to ebb.
Watching the torrent of rage and black
Swirling before me.
So easy it would be to fall,
Fall before my sin, hate, imperfection,
Isolation...
Fall before I give myself a chance to stand.
The inertia of hope and faith
No longer exists..
On my darkest days...
"...The arc of the dream descends to despair,
And the shadows smile, dark and wide.
This is where hope and desire collapse..."
Blind to our salvation
Because we refuse to see.
In all things there is retribution.
It is within me..
Even on my darkest days...