As I stare into the black space,
I am surrounded by the sea of pitch
That overcomes my body with tremulous waves,
As my wavering heartbeat
Flickers like a flame in a downpour.
Nothing is clear.
The pitch is in my eyes and
As hard as I try to blink it away,
It consumes me until all I see is the blackness.
My limbs succumb to the numbness
While my soul is tossed around
Like a rag doll in a tornado,
Stuck in the same circular, shadowy pattern
Until it emerges,
Mangled and ugly.  
The shadow of the Hope I had in earlier hours
Has disappeared, melting in this
Disdainful, tormenting pitch.
It's seeping into my skin now,
Drowning me as I claw at my throat,
Desperate for a way out.
But the inevibility of it making its way to my heart is clear.
It'll form an incasing around it,
For that is its pattern,
To wait for the miner to chip it away.
But his chisel will eventually pierce my heart,
And the pitch will return.
It'll surround me and blind me.
It'll choke me until it's made its way to my heart.
And every time, he'll come back,
He'll let me breathe air for a little while,
But though the miner's heart is strong,
The pitch is a part of me now,
And my flame of a heartbeat is withering softly.