The Lost Book

Where am I? why am I here?
used, alone, torn
I have felt embrace
care
love
joy
but not here, never here
dark
cold
a darkness where not even a pinch of light can cut through
heavy, I feel heavy
the weight of the darkness pressing on my shoulders
wait!
what was that?
that sound.... Oh! that sound so beautiful
more beautiful than a magnolia in may
pure
untainted by the cruel midnight
never has blood touched its soft skin
no scarring
bruises
that the midnight could give it
it walks towards me
slow and timid steps it takes
its fingertips lightly grazing me
giving me the sight I need
to feel
hear
taste
my freedom of my prison
it holds me close
the cold chased away by its warmth
but a soon as the warmth reached my heart it turned ice cold
the world being ripped away
it was colder than before
darker
the air thicker and laced with mourn
my light
my life
my warmth
my hope
dead
no one to blame
no one but the darkness
but who is his darkness?
why does this midnight hate me so?
looking down at my hand covered in blood
pure
innocent
the only one to blame
is......
me