• The journey is truly bleak without,
    The music flowing through my veins,
    As I walk through the hall of mirrors,
    That reflects my darkest pains.

    Doubt lingers and enshrouds,
    The shadowed recesses of my heart,
    Guilt traps my mind with knarled hands,
    As betrayal rips my soul apart.

    I lose hope of ever escaping,
    This little prison that I'm in,
    When light shines upon my frame,
    Portraying my darkened sin.

    Hands reach for a grip;
    I know that they won't get,
    But a tiny sliver of what might be,
    Demands me not to fret.

    I am hauled from the shadows,
    Still clinging on to hope,
    That the hands will not leave me,
    To struggle on and cope.

    The arms wrap around me,
    Followed by several more,
    The feeling is foreign to me,
    It warms me to my core.

    Is this what love feels like?
    Is it really that nice?
    Will I ever feel it again?
    If not, this will suffice.

    The arms slowly leave,
    And the warmth seeps away,
    But one stays with me,
    And keeps the cold at bay.

    Whispered words are spoken,
    Their meaning foreign to me,
    Just the tone there to say,
    You are wanted, can't you see?