I live in the darkest of places,
it is here that I constantly dwell
Some would call it empty,
but to me its name is just hell.

So rare is there anything,
that enters here into my night.
But every so often I am tortured,
by glimpsed reflections of light.

I watch as light approaches,
feel its warmth inside of me.
Giving rise to both dream and hope
and the promise of things that might be.

I watch as light passes,
and bathe in its radiant shine.
Thoughts voiced by madness,
I look to the light for a sign.

As it draws nearer to my existence,
and knowing what I need it to be.
The light always unerringly diverges,
I now aware the light just didn't seek me.

I sit and remember the lights,
here in my own black little shell,
I look all about me at darkness,
knowing that light wont ever want hell.