Why do I not cry, Oh! why do I not try and cry,
When I run in this midst of nothingness.
No hands to hold by and walk in the night,
No warmth to embrace in the dark's emptiness.
A lie being lived every morning,
And then to get lost in the meaningless labyrinth.
This is the nadir of hope.. and this is how it feels perhaps.
Each day at a time, no hope stirred in it.
This is the nadir of hopelessness.