A void, once defeated,
has regained its strength;
and the light, which once filled it,
consumed piece by piece.
A darkness now lingers,
in this cavernous hell-hole,
suffocating life slowly
as its dwelling swells moreso.
As it rots away slowly
the light tries to wimper,
but the surface stays untouched,
a facade, plain and simple.
And with no cries for help,
and no pain from lights fading,
this cancerous tumor
just continues feeding.

But the surface soon fails it
and a sinkhole is opened,
allowing light back in
to fix what is broken.
yet the darkness resists,
it's emptiness a weapon.
Deep nihilist depression
dillutes the lights beacon.
Desperate, i cry out,
to the strangers in heaven:
"Just a breeze, or a whisper,
something good, just a seven!"
But the only reply
from the brooding red ceiling,
are the echoes of gunshots,
dissipating, and leaving.