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The world is cold, it's a known fact, The storms of life crash, The thunder elongates the process, Stuck in the whirlpool of thoughts, Human who thought she had lost all hope loses additional bit of hope she didn't know she had.
Trying to cling to the one thing that can bring warmth, Smothering out the breath of the newly budding piece in the process, Despair hangs about like dark gloomy clouds, It's a struggle to breathe, It's a struggle to live.
Standing the ground with contempt at the storm is one, Facing the east, waiting for the sun to rise again, The protector; ignored but not unnoticed. Claws sharpened and taking a standing, vowing;
The human shall weep no more.
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