To there to gaze those vicious glare,
Those ardent gems that long to stare.
But deeper wounds, now form within,
Both good and bad, virtue and sin.
For these the memories, buried from soil,
No longer to watch nor pleasant to spoil.
For it is the silence that mortal fears,
Comfort and sorrow, happiness and tears.
Nothing but the silence of the brave,
The secrets you keep, now bury in grave.