The children of the night,
Are not what they seem,
Like dark glittering dust,
Their breath carries the grief,
In the embrace of the night,
Their hearts bloom to weep,
The children of the night,
Come alive most after dusk,
Some defeated and lorn,
Some who do not want to trust,
Their bodies lay still,
But their soul wide awake,
Wandering into realms,
And tormented by hate,
The children of the night,
Whose broken souls,
Bear a beautiful sight,
Early neither rest or sleep,
To wait for the light,
A light brighter than the sun,
Towards which they would run,
For the light which bursts,
From the cracks of their hearts,
The children of the night,
Await in the dark.
