Whispers, I hear in the dark.
In my heart, they create the spark.
Confusions, they start to appear.
The inevitable goodness, this disappear.
Ignition of what has been bent is done.
I thought what made me will never be gone.
As I tried to view that is the heart,
There was no hope they will be removed of the bad part.
Then someone brings a paintbrush with Him.
And like a canvass, He painted me cream.
The murkiness of the bloodstream overflows.
The clarity of the painted one shows.
The sun shines bright for the day.
And there is no negative I have to say.
Even when it sets there is no problem.
As the moon beams like an emblem.
Whispers, I still hear in the dark.
In my mind, they sing like a lark.
Confusions, I still feel under my ears.
The inevitable goodness, they are in my fears.