Wounded souls silently live in the pain
Waiting for a prayer that will assuage their mane
Providing a solace for the throat with blood stain,
Cut through with the silent screamings’ echoes’ train
The caressing dull glow of the crepuscule’s gain
Affects the bruised one to writhe in fires of bane
In the night’s soothing embrace, the embers wane;
Exuviating, the skin breathes fresh, within a new reign.