It was under the violet skies that rolled by, 

You whispered your dreams to a forgiving sky,

And said “At least you removed my stone-cold burden.” 

You looked and said life’s a painting, 

It was an episode of sad beauty, feeling of perpetual loneliness, 

When you ask the same unanswered question:

“What’s it like being unforgiven, trying to be good?” 

Tainted by a haunting past,

You cannot accept that the violet sky saves you,

You cannot believe that a kind soul loves you, 

Or that kind words from a stranger redeem you,

Every day and night, you are reminded of frailty, 

Fragility, vulnerability, your sin and shame, 

How easy it would be to end it all,

Living life and breathing is your honour,

Your strength in that which you love more than life itself,

And hope is the hardest thing to cling onto, 

In a life slipping away from fingertips tired of holding on.