Falling, I could never see the light. I watched as day turned to night. Falling, I never grasped the flame, I watched as fear was engulfed by shame. To myself and others, useless. To all the same, worthless. These were the days I would always rue. Never with a voice, I had no true choice. So I sat and would listen, hoping to find something that might glisten. A faint whisper carried to my ear, and it held something dear. At the end of my rope, it offered something nothing could; hope.