Black washes the walls where I stood once before:
I cannot leave light in my wake.
Each little spark starts a flame of regret
and smoke seen from miles away.
I hold close to my heart the old days long ago
when I once had a mother and love.
But nothing remains from those forsaken years
save for children with motherless homes.
If I could fall to my knees without dropping the weights,
the hard burden I've been forced to bear,
I would harbor the child, cold and lost, in my arms
to ease the pain of an ill, mourning world.
In the light of a cloudy and dim rising sun,
I can feel my blood run cold.
I weep tears for the loved ones I've lost in this age
and slumber in the nightmares of old.
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