The Darkest Hour

Crippled arc of relentless perception,
Forges the character of her sinful vessel.
The hideousness of the play plagued her life.
The vision of certainty was barren.
She was scared of the burden of an idealist.
 
The title of the daughter she carried; crushed her merry land.
The endless chores of obstacles drained her time
The journey she beheld clogged her.
Shadows of the mist became her companion.
She yearned for a moment of breath in her still life.

Her voice was trembling,
She was stained in the vicious blood of her dearest love
The arc of time became her only enemy
Whispers of the dark welcomed her
The ray of light in her turned into a burning flame of revenge.

The sanctity of her existence was forever scared.
She swore on her existence to return the favour of slaughter.
The fickleness of life had taken a roll toward the dark hour
The saga of revenge had unleashed itself.