There's a pain that hurts
and pain that heals;
A pain that stings
like angry bees;
It may be one
that leaves you sore;
But never a pain
did I want more

There are eyes that haunt,
and eyes that soothe;
Eyes that pierce
like a razortooth;
But only once
could I behold;
Eyes that spoke
of secrets, untold

There stands a room
beside a path;
The sound of motors
in the silent dark;
Two quiet smokes
against the wall;
A sacred glow
the shadows tall

The ashes fall
and thought ignites;
A hope lingers
inside a mind;
But quickly dies
before it spreads;
This spark of wonder
a quiet death

It sneaks around
to find a home;
This quiet Hope
crushed to the bone;
It may have tries
to return anew;
Were it not trapped
where memories grew

Now no more
do the faces glow;
Against the wall
or the room's shadow;
The sole survivor
is the motors' hum;
And there lies Hope
with its funeral drum.