In the alley where shadows cling,
Violence dances in the midnight air.
Silent screams of the unseen kings,
Their power woven in a broken snare.

Crimson stains upon the stone,
Stories untold in the hush of night.
In every crack, a cry, a moan,
A testament to the futile fight.

The moon, a witness, cold and pale,
Watches over the city’s endless grief.
In every heart, a hidden tale,
Of love turned bitter, hope turned thief.

Yet in the chaos, a fragile peace,
A glimmer in the darkest hour.
In every heart, a will to cease,
The cycle of the violence’s power.