On Sunday morning, bathed in golden light,  
I grasp for life with all my might.  
Yet day is weak, my heart is blind,  
In shadows lost, no warmth to find.  
Colder than winter, darker than night,  
Bitter like every farewell in sight.  
I fight, but strength has left my soul,  
My fate remains beyond control.  
A deep breath, one more, once again.
I hold it in to mask the pain.  
Yet silent tears refuse to hide,  
Still searching for a way outside.  
What is my meaning? Do I belong?  
I seek the answers, but for so long,  
The void just echoes back my cries,  
And chills me with its silent ice…


(c) xellber