The death throes of daylight set the sky ablaze
Silent pyres are heaped with the bodies of the meek
A twilight inferno, prelude to utter blackness
The erlking's only boon
In the shadow which offers no relief
We explore the caverns of thought
And pluck stars from the sky, striving
But armor wrought from rhetoric
And axes blunt by willful ignorance offer no protection
Only shackles and an early demise
Excise guilt, abolish doubt
Is there no escape from Ahimsa's snare?
Natures face be stained red by claw and tooth but even rusty tools
Misshapen and vile
Have their uses, there can be no life for the weak

INVIA LE CORREZIONI