The disastrous fate of Nightingale was to sing in sorrow,
A verse written from blood dripping off the leaden arrow.
Bridge of faith was built,reaching the other side,you made a vow,
But there's fire on the bridge, and I can't burn to reach you now.
Should I leave or should I drown?
Perhaps, it was a tragedy, that perfect shade of brown.

A Scream so loud,but the water remained Serene,
A voice unheard , a death unseen.
Hundred chances,Eternalizing a destructive affection,
A right decision walking the wrong direction.
Icy December, you there keeping me warm,
Now I'm wandering these streets alone Weathering the storm.
...