Poetry To change a lightbulb

[Noahhatesme]

The room is dim,
My cracked hands scrape,
Against a twisted idea,
A switch in my psyche flips,
But im to weak to change the bulb.

No light peaks through,
The blackout curtains,
To create an artificial death,
No shine or beauty to be found,
Amongst this broken glass.

Leaning over the sink,
Watch it
drip, drip, drip
A crimson sparkle,
So pure and silent,
Untill the room is finnaly lit.