Born into this village of turmoil,
Where blind people walk ,
Igniting the turmoil .
The fire is no longer warm.
The warmth has fled,
From every soul, the blind souls.

She grows up amidst the cold fire,
Wondering ,what is wrong ?
Why is the fire so cold ?
Why the doves are black ?
Her soul yearns for warmth,
Amongst the blind hell.

She seeks the warmth,
She was denied for so long,
That she paints the streets , with the blood of her conspirators.

She burns down the village,
With her raging want ,
Of warmth from,the mundane cold .
She savours the the warmth,
She longed for all her life .