Cradle and All

Let there be no dawn from the sun,
I wish it not to be,
The dark pits of my mind's eye,
Leave me withering,
Cradling any hope and goodness,
But it is dead in my arms,
Like a smothered infant child,
My tears turn to blood,
Fingernails claw rock as I slide,
Further down,
Echoes rise up this chasm,
Earth falls on me...