When the skies have rained all they can
And the nights have drawn you away from the sun
When the days and seasons have run by their myriad
The display of continued life and death
The cycle ever turning but never advancing
Never becoming more
Never allowing you to escape its drone
Perhaps when the years are all you have to show
And the scars that wrap around your darkened heart
The only way you can possibly ever lift yourself from the pit
Is to fall to its bottom
To allow yourself no where to go but up
For when the bridges of your life have all burnt to cinders
The flowers are dead and the voices silent
Rock bottom in the oblivion
Destruction beyond recognition may be the only way.

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Severin, in the year 154 MA.