Born into a field of flowers, to slowly wilt awaynSheltered by wings, delicately smothered by blindnessnReleased among the wolves, thus molded by resistancenRidden by the clawed hoofs of tyrantsnnThe fruit of other worlds, but grown by lonelinessnConcealing a black soul, and but sensing the beyondnUniquely grown from withinnShimmered by a darker night, but left to solitudennHow can one disclose a darker night,nIf one but rests?nOr evidence the suffering,nBy wordly gauge?nOr comprehend the long-drawn agonynWhen pain and evil never trod one downnnLike a warring sun, from a better kingdomnBeautiful, free, of different steel!nDearly prized, and equally brokennHe should have gone free of you!nnAn emotional tumour, gnaws from insidenOf heartless, spineless treasonnThe darkest night now weaves its loomnSoon to release its spawn