The Sun

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I used to dwell
In the bitter cold
Of Darkness.
Never once felt warmth.
Never once saw Light.
But then the Sun came up
And I was nearly blinded
By the Light radiating
Off his joyful self
And was covered
With a blanket of warmth
That could warm the coldest
Of hearts.
But no matter
How bright he shone,
Darkness still hung on my lashes,
Like tears.
But no matter
How warm his embrace felt,
My skin was still cold to touch.
But I hid these from the Sun.
I didn't want to upset him.
As time wore on,
I took his presence for granted
And told him to leave,
Wanting a break from his constant
Shining and warming,
Thinking he'll come back.
The Sun always comes back,
Right?
But as I lay here,
On the cold, hard ground,
Staring up at the dark,
Lifeless sky
With tears blurring my vision,
I realize that the Sun is
Never coming back.
And it's all my fault.
So I walk to the water's edge
And jump into the pool of Darkness,
Letting the cold liquid
Flood my lungs
And consume my fading existence.
After all, nobody can live
Without the Sun,
Right?