In the silence of the midnight hour,
Pain lingers like a haunting ghost,
Whispers of what once was power,
Now mere echoes, forever lost.

The heart, a vessel of shattered dreams,
Holds stories untold, silently weeping,
Wounds concealed beneath moonbeams,
In the shadows, they lie, quietly sleeping.

Tears trace paths on weary faces,
A testament to battles fought alone,
In the quiet, hurt finds its places,
Where solace is a distant tone.

Yet through the darkness, hope may rise,
A fragile light in the endless night,
Healing whispers in broken skies,
Turning hurt into gentle light.