Worst of its kind
When you indulge deeper
Creeping out from the shadows
Of a great holocaust
Certain shade of black engraved
Thicker.
Agony,
A torturing sore it caused
Flown by the ravens
In the darkest side of the moon
It hinders not
From their gloomy will
Itself being shut;
For them, it is such a boon
Sort of perfection
They instilled in the mind
of the abused
but there is more than
what the eyes see
They brawled on it,
But they pause
With its blinding gleam
They were engrossed
Hoking them to sense the ridicule
they were up to
Drive it away
from the dim cage
where it grew.
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