Wooden shelters veil my existence,
A chaos eats up my sound;
I must be invisible to all.
Blue blurring the globe of light,
A treasure of life it is, hated by a might.
Twinkling patches of white,
On them, many rest their eyes.
A chaotic morning, heavens must be aligned.
I failed miserably at holding up to my lie,
What you had seeked all along
Was nothing but a mere light;
from afar had it given you a greed.
I bled to search for your swords and armour,
You pitied my wounds with the roses you sent.