By the dusk, a ray of light touches the grass gently.
Facing the sky helplessly, muttered a prayer.
Understand and forgive, these fearful eyes weeps deeply.
These wounds feels like meeting an old friend.
Nobody pay a heed the words, from the innocence.
Accused of being the outcast.
No sense to be found amongst them.
Chains of toils, blinded by wrong faith.
Now, the cries of the dead can be heard across
They begged to their last suffering.
The blade fell upon every last breath.
What I am now, you made me
It’ll be over soon, a touch of death.
Silence filled the orchid field.
The dead beneath the meadow rises.

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