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In days of yore, I towered high or crouched low, A specter of dread, now a shadow’s echo. Once a terror, now a whisper, a zero in disguise, A walking piece of clay, slowly crumbling in time’s vise.
My soul, once aflame, now torn asunder, In the dark hand of fate, I tremble and wonder. Why, oh God, am I forsaken, left to die? In this twilight of despair, I lift my voice and cry.
Each step I take, a fragment falls away, As the light dims, giving in to the gray. Oh, the agony, the silent scream within, Why has my faith been shattered, my spirit worn thin?
In this abyss, I find no solace, no reprieve, Only the cold embrace of shadows that deceive. Yet, even in this desolation, I seek a spark, A glimmer of hope to light my path in the dark.
For though I dwindle, fade, and decay, In my heart, a whisper remains—perhaps I’ll find my way. From horror to zero, from towering to small, In the silence, I hear a call—perhaps, after all.