The night dawned on the tiny town of No Hope.

Cut wires lie at the end of every empty alley.

Hope withers as bodies hang limply by rope,

forever falling in the illimitable valley.

The town of No Hope remains in the darkness.

Paths winding and warping, dying at every turn.

The people hold razors, testing their sharpness,

ignoring the wary winds of deep concern.

I am one stuck in the tiny town of No Hope.

I have lost life, knowing it will never return.

Rivers bleed on an everlasting downward slope,

consuming perpetual, black flames, feeling the burn.

In the tiny town, there is no way to cope.

In the tiny town is the feeling of everlasting hope.