You beg for a new beginning; A bottle of white-out To erase the pain you’ve endured. You long for a light bright enough To dim the shadows that linger At the corners of your eyes Pulling your smile downwards, Signifying your slow demise. But your yawns become weaker As weariness sets in Yet you still cry out- Reaching, reaching, reaching… But not quite touching. Seeking a savior, To locate your lost soul And a sense of being A sense of importance A sense of hope Through these shaded days. You’re asking for my help, So I’ll do the best I can I'm handing you a crayon, Now color yourself out of your past And draw me a pretty picture.