The stairs present a new problem, after all the sedentary years
They broke my neck once already, and no one calls any longer
I made too many "first" impressions that ended as being tears
The light of life left my eyes, despite the test, I'm not stronger
A path of finding my way, led to my being lost, every act cost
A world built by a being of epic grace, I lost the battle fought
I was offered a way to survive my world, instead I was tossed
Into a lake of fire, wanting to decide now, my hopes were lost
Looking off as my world turns empty, and a final black canvas
All my paintings burn, and those scratches are from the trying
Leaving their chilling signature upon canvas, in red, pleading
“No, child, you’re wrong. They’re not the same. Life
means hope, death is nothing at all.” Euripides
