Colors have drained.
All is dark.
Cold is here.
Warm has gone with the light.

I thought my fall had ended,
I thought no more pain could be bore,
Yet my fall speeds up.

I never realized:
You were my parachute.
I was falling, yes,
But at the speed of a feather,
Slowly spiraling.

Now you're not here,
And I keep on accelerating.
Not towards breaking,
I'm already broken.
Not towards darkness,
I'm already lost.
I'm being pulled:
Towards the void,
And into madness.