Hopes and dreams,

That always seems,

Out of her reach.

Broken lives,

And stolen Dreams.

Two winged sky roamer,

Surfaces all the envy in her,

Insufficient caged desire.

 

Dawn brings Leather,

On Ebony, rebelling Dorsums.

Remainder?

Locked by Fear,

And drowned by Hope.

Dwelling in Lies.

Sleeping on Tears.

 

Dusk carries the Arôme De

Terreur in its seemingly,

Unending noire glory.

Agony is her sister,

They’ve named her brother Pain.

She is made of Sorrow,

And taken for Broken.

 

She’s Shattered; They think.

In pieces; They believe.

Her history dismissed,

And her Background Forgotten.

She has no one but us,

Her loyalty is forced.

Conquered, she is,

With clenched,

And Iron fist.

 

The others sat and watched,

as the vicious sun cycled.

Hope lost authority,

And followed the single-tailed bull of Agony.

But with the cirque du soleil,

She gained strength with,

Unwavering patience.

She fed her brothers,

Of the same essence.

Hope regained strength.

Broken was fixed.

Tears were dried.

And Pain was mended.

We had lost many battles,

But we rejoiced in Victoire.

For we were the victors of the War.