A Sickness

My sickness, my sickness,

And there is no recess.

I whisper from the depths:

Please help! For what I have kept,

Makes me see inside myself.

Restore my damaged vision,

That I may give provisions.

My sadness, My sadness,

Too deep to see happiness.

I did search in vain,

I did drown in rain.

My hope, my hope,

Return my treastured hope;

Rescue me from my ill,

I am waiting-

Waiting still.

Corridors

The door was there,

But the handle disappeared.

I would've ran,

So I could've relit my candle ere it ceases to shine.

No one could see the drooping eyes,

Or the sad sun setting before noon,

Wondering if it'd come back soon.

When I saw these things,

I reached into the heavens to pull you out,

But you had already fallen to what might have been.