Days of bleakness,
Days of darkness,
Days of hope, yet no heed
Only mans curiosity with greed.
Days of despair,
These days grow thin, and almost never tear
Days of light,
Yet none answer the sights.
Days of war,
With no exits at the door
Days of passion,
For those who risk compassion.
Days of love,
A day where cold air is ever flowing,
Yet the silk from the dark bristles are never showing.
And for the day that love grows weak,
I always draw to you,
For my memories are there to seek.