In the dungeons of this night,

some daggers, some knives are in quest.

I stay awake, watching shadows of dark,

creaking silences holding a tryst,

Behind open doors the sobs of a mother so near,

the invaders march not far,

A light eludes, a cloak prevails,

our untold truths sleep under mounds of war

Their crimes ceaseless, denied and remorseless;

Our epitaphs scattered, erased and endless.