• What is left without the beauty of love?
    What of when the light of day shifts to night?
    I behold the image of the slain dove,
    I foresee my future and feel true fright.
    I stay alone, until the end of time.
    Living in silent sorrow, to be not found,
    While only expressed through this woeful rhyme,
    My eyes remain fixed upon the cold ground.
    I await the day of my greatest fall,
    until then there is only painful dread.
    I see her name upon a grand steel wall,
    On these ays, I wish I were dead.
    I see no sense in choosing denial,
    For living now shall be my greatest trial.