Three in the morning,

And I am awake;

The lights are bright-

The city is awake;

The flurries cluster in fury-

The sky is in mourning:

Land forms blurry, almost rushed,

Like hurried strokes of a brush.

Yet, my City of Sin weeps in silence-

She knows she is no good for me

Because I give everything for her,

And what she holds,

She holds only for me to see,

And only for so briefly.

A curse which binds-

Forever, I am, a spawn of Spring:

Only with life and love do I thrive.

Certain, I am, that

In slaying her sins

Never will I be truly alive.

Always swift to smother,

However,

She holds captive those who,

In blood and blessings,

I love.

My City of Sin, she who binds,

Mourn for me

For I have made my decision

Between whether

To struggle broken,

Awake with those I love,

Or,

To live with freedom,

Vast with loneliness only understood

By those weeping in silence.