Sometimes darkness is beautiful
For it is another way of seeing through
Although it is an agent of stumble in many ways
But it is way of seeing ones heart

But when a way to see the heart is another blunt camera
Then how are we to define it to the world
That a mighty closed circuit is what does not live again

How are we to table it on the mind of the awaiting soul
That a servant of clear and pure vision is now a little girl with hell on her head

It is still not a living room
For it is still a mayhem sacred land
But tell me how to hold words with it
Tell me how to raise the darkness and bury it
For till now, I am still living in an abyss and a land of puzzlement.