No one knows who hides behind these eyes,
How many times she’s cried.
Everyondoest’t see the forces that stand beside,

They roar and scream; the darkest things of your dreams
The things she’s seen,
The things she’s heard.
They are nothing to your most demented nightmares.

A flutter of feathers,
A lift of wings,
A beat of unison,
Carved into her back as a soft spoken guardian,

The lost ask for help,
They guilty beg for mercy,
The average coward in fear.
For what they do not understand

Both terrified by the same fears,
One from what they do not know,
Two for what she does.

Understand her whispers are deadly,
Her shouts are rebellious,

Expelled from milk and honey,
Confused between her wants and needs,
It is not her fault

Blame comforts her in the quest to avenge his soul,
Even for the crime in which he committed against her own.