Silent cries of pain subside,
As torture burns the love inside,
Many times your soul has cried,
Then withered like a rose and died,
Fear of all the things to come,
The struggle within has left you numb,
Sheltered by the helpless one,
Darkened children crave the sun.
Reaching out to touch the rain,
It coats your hand to leave a stain,
The turmoil leaves an endless pain,
Your heart is rendered dead with strain,
Creep amidst your fellow men,
And see your light release again,
A visitor in the Reaper's den,
A hopeful trail, another dead end.
From consequence and pain you learn,
You see yourself as bold and stern,
For the river cool you yearn,
On the Devil's stake you start to burn,
Look too long and turn to stone,
The dry cement of your hallow bones,
From deep inside, the demons groan,
In the fight against yourself, you stand alone.