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 wordly 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