Hope was gone in the brightest days,

And moon from the darkest nights.

A turtle from its shell to swim,

And fins from a fish’s life.

A thousand or a million days,

Wishing to survive.

Believing you would take it away,

Looking away from the sky.

Being in the brightest days,

Light gone from my ways.

Me asking death ‘what the future holds for me’.

Wanting to feel great,

But the darkness inside me,

Make death to seem so real.

Just hoping to believe,

The brightness of the light would rescue me.