Why should I bend?
Night has qualms with destroyed souls
Only the hiss of the former days
Can restore the mattress of time
Should I repeat my self
on end higher than this?
Night becomes great deeds never uncovered
Like a woman's despair
Her self
Vigilant of departed cats
Dreaming silences
The street at her cover
Shines where there are
No more sighs
She mingles in poverty
Tries her luck as a natural state
Soul of dust paved on glory
Night seems nor dark nor dull
She steps into my soul
Dying ember suffocated
On mane.