The chains will leave marks,
But those scars will fade,
Unlike the scrapes from the past that I've made.
A cut on pure flesh,
An internal bleed,
Life is a privilege that some just dont need.
The battles are deadly,
All silent wars, fought,
All fighting over to give in or not.
The young clock will stop,
The sand will run dry,
Leaving the child who won't say goodbye.
The sons have all gone,
Leaving nothing but light,
Something to brighten the darkening night.
All chains leave deep marks,
And some scars will fade,
We all leave behind the pasts that we've made.