It is not that darkness is all I have seen,
For I knew not the light that shone,
As bright as it engorged this world,
This life, it touched it none.
I have forever been nothing,
Empty and inert.
Devoid of worth.
If darkness is portrayed as death,
Successful was its power and will,
To instruct my infelicitous demise,
As to render me absent in acquainting my soul.
Ruinous and leaden,
Nurtured from birth.
Forsaken by darknesses damnation,
A future set to fail.
Which curses me into relentless alienation.
The time of my existence bares wounds and scars,
Yet despondent and insensate,
This heart is consumed to my blackest parts.
It looks to the beginning…
To the darkness, right back to the start.
© 2021 Alana Bembridge