Time seems to be slipping away.
Dark pools of resonance
Flowing with echoes of truth,
lost and afraid.
The path before has lost the glow of predawn light;
An eclipsed sorrow of the dark.
A tear, a tear, a damaging care.
Life of peril, the gentle rot, things forgot
And faces dimmed.
Nonsenses of the heart.
It’s dark. It’s dark.
My heart, my heart,
Oh, my bleeding heart.
– Sarah Mitchell