Near is the coming, not going with ease; Way too wrinkled, one too many a crease. Broken in places, still I grew; Cracked like a sieve, light shimmering through. Of skin and tissue, allegedly unable to feel; Look inside you’ll see, that really, I’m unable to heal. Grew up under a shadow, amidst cheers to stand tall; Dug deep but, there too, a shortfall. Only wanted to help, settled on shallow and spread; Now I’m dead in the center, as I’m lain to bed. An unsent prayer is all I have left;