When my world turned a shade of coal, A shade of ebony. A shade too many the detail of corruption, As you departed, free from me. You were the many sails atop the ship, The many hours for the diseased patient Who spits blood upon their immaculate attire. You were the essence of the wind, the freest spirit. When my world turned black, I knew nothing, save for the night. I knew nothing more than my miseries turning white That I may draw my portrait in the sand. No other details, but the face of a man Who has nothing left to land Upon his heart, that was left behind to stand, To then fall. My pain is a great many ways To feel this empty pride. Just a way to see myself in the white, To see myself in the shade. Such blankness, Such emptiness, Such a void to fill, By nothing more than something to hide.