Found this poem
Black Skies, White Lies
I sit in the dark silence hoping for another
to mend what has been broken.
But it's only little me and I sit alone.
The darkness is compelling me into thoughts of
what seems to be a tragedy.
There is a crisp chill in the air,
though, it may feel bitter; it isn't.
I feel nothing, but as to you I'm heartless.
No more and no less.
Must you break and bend me?