Unsent Letter.

Like a fire that's dying,
for oxygen I'm gasping,
fighting to stay lit with the water pouring,
without heat, I am cold, shivering.

For warmth, I rather be suffering,
for love, I dare to be dreaming,
as life is about fighting,
or at least die trying.

Leave me in the darkness that's blinding,
and a bright light will be in my finding,
cut me off the shackles that are chocking,
you will be in awe to see me soaring.