In the shadowed corners of your heart,

where love should bloom, you chose to sow

the seeds of torment and despair,

a garden watered by tears, not hope.You held the world in iron fists,

stripped innocence, a quiet thief,

echoes of laughter turned to cries,

the fragile spirit beaten down, unbound.Your son learned to flinch at shadows,

to silence his dreams, hide his light,

as you painted violence with a father’s pride—

a brush dipped in darkness, thick and cruel.And those small hands, so eager for warmth,

met cold fingers where they should’ve found grace,

you cut the tether to the world’s embrace,

wove nightmares into their waking hours.What haunts your soul, what ghost you chase,

that branded you with an unholy fire?

Each bruise a memory, a mark of your shame,

yet you walk untouched, as if to retire.Beneath the surface, humanity weeps,

did you roam without a heart’s true crime?

To touch, to take, to break and to bruise,

lost in your labyrinth, where love is a lie.Yet hope flickers, a candle in the storm,

in the valley where shadows kiss the ground,

for the son who bears your chains may rise,

find strength in the light, reborn, unbound.There’s a reckoning that cries from the deep,

a whisper that screams you’re not beyond cease,

to confront the mirror, the depth of your being—

can you hear the echoes calling for peace?So I reach through the pain, through the thickening night,

to collect pieces, to weave a new tale,

to break free from the bonds your darkness bestowed,

and ignite a flame that will never grow pale.