Forsaken On 52

my fingers did quiver and twitch. with palms moist from your sweat. a burst
of pain, then light turned black. and as this quiet choked my tongue i
struggled to my knees, and slowly began to weep. for this day the sun did
die. goodbye my dear. whispering to myself, i never believed. i never
thought that i could take these things for granted. but as the darkness and
rain (surround me now.) i know that i was wrong. more that just the sun died
this day. forgive? forsaken. that which doesnt kill me only serves to make
me strong. you made only one mistake. you didnt kill me. you should have
killed me that day, because i am still breathing. i am still bleeding. i am
still breathing the anger you confine, breathing dies.