The window to my soul seems darker now.
Its transparency is clouded by crimson blues.
Like stained glass tempered to withstand hard blows,
I can see my life only through this disillusionment.
The darkness is thick except for these crimson rays.
Lost, but I’m searching – from here, will I ever find my way?
Cold and alone, in this prison of my own, calm and still.
Like a kiss from above, the blue sunshine warms my face.
Perhaps I am the darkness that the sun longs to reclaim
My heart is the cage, and this prison is its frame.
Can a being, such as me, ever find their saving grace?
I’d found this old poem which I had written for Reddit a long while ago floating on the internet on someone else’s website. Thought I might as well share it on my own. :p