your appearance has never graced my vision,
yet on the night of the moon gloweth thy prison.
Shelter in the dark heart of pain,
affecting the solitary state of thine name,
a travesty none shall ever tame.

Your warmth has never been in my grasp,
tender touch of love never hath pasted.
Alas' the struggle of innocent pain,
reflects that of the nature of thy game,
sorrowfully remaineth the same.

Torture my fight of sight,
shall strike forth with the pierce of thy knife.
Heart ache drowning in loneliness pain,
crumble upon my humility grave,
enslaved.