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.

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