TW: suicide

Ember lives a life in the night

Never before have seen the light

She cannot fathom with her mind

A world in where the sun is shined

On the ceiling above, an imaginary lamp laid

With a string for a switch, delicately made

Each nook and cranny researched and planned

Every knot tied with her careful hand

Should she pull the string, a light would glow

Illuminate her and whatever’s on the floor below

But the string’s high up on that ceiling so old

So she stands on a chair to get a better hold

Yet as she stands up, she becomes wary

The thought of seeing light is quite scary 

If she pulls, she doesn’t know what she’ll view

Many proverbs heard, yet none confirmed true

Some say that light is a terrible beast

Blinds you forever and reduces you to your least

Some say that light is an empty bliss

Soft as a snowflake, tender as a kiss

Some say that light perhaps doesn’t exist

After light life continues in a darkened mist

Some say that light is blessingly cursed

Cruel at its best, benevolent at its worst

Perhaps, Ember thinks, she’s seen it before

Before her birth, before that damned war

Which pulled her from their loving embraces

If she turns it on, maybe she could see their faces

Whatever light looks like, one thing’s clear

When it illuminates, there’s no protective curtain

Whatever she sees, she won’t forget

When she pulls the string, no room left for regret

Having considered that, Ember steps on the chair

She decides to pull it, right then and there

As the knotted string wrapped around her tight,

She kicked down the chair

And turned on the light