In the quiet corners of the night,
Where shadows dance with hidden fright,
There lies a heart, so worn and torn,
By whispers of a love forlorn.

The scars that time cannot erase,
Etched deep upon a tender face,
Each tear a silent testament,
To moments lost, to dreams misspent.

Through valleys dark and mountains high,
The spirit fights, though oft it sighs,
For in the depths of endless pain,
There blooms the hope to rise again.

And so, with every breath it takes,
The soul endures, though it may break,
For pain and suffering cannot bind,
The endless strength of human kind.