Born into a field of flowers, to slowly wilt away Sheltered by wings, delicately smothered by blindness Released among the wolves, thus molded by resistance Ridden by the clawed hoofs of tyrants The fruit of other worlds, but grown by loneliness Concealing a black soul, and but sensing the beyond Uniquely grown from within Shimmered by a darker night, but left to solitude How can one disclose a darker night, If one but rests? Or evidence the suffering By worldly gauge? Or comprehend the long-drawn agony When pain and evil never trod one down Like a warring sun, from a better kingdom Beautiful, free, of different steel! Dearly prized, and equally broken He should have gone free of you! An emotional tumour, gnaws from inside Of heartless, spineless treason The darkest night now weaves its loom Soon to release its spawn.