Never reach me in plain view,
And I'm far too tired to know,
If I can survive one more fight.
I can't see through the tunnel,
And I don't want to continue,
Without some glimpse of hope,
All I ask for is artificial light.
There's nobody close to here,
I forget the comfort of home.
My skin cracks like concrete,
So that I'm completely broken.
I tuck into submission in fear,
Of dying painfully, yet alone,
Once again accepting defeat,
In the dark with my eyes open.
Some days I know God is real,
And he is a fucking masochist,
That forces me into this room,
Pitch black, and nothing inside,
Windows are covered by steel,
And chains drag on my wrists.
I fully expect my certain doom,
Until I find some artificial light.
I sweat and burn from inside,
As demons push their way out,
In search of a brighter place,
That I am still yet to discover.
Is it imaginary or am I blind?
On the best days I still doubt,
My hand is in front of my face,
So ideas of escape are absurd.
Maybe I am meant to be in here,
And I need to accept the fact,
I am supposed to suffer forever,
If I can live just to see tonight.
I look for the writing to appear,
Except the walls are still black,
How can I survive having never,
Found any sort of artificial light?
Copyright 2007
-John Gehrig