Lying upon the crest of a low- lying hill,
The cold breeze, so fierce and chill
With alpine beats so shrill
Shrouded by mist and mystery, to add in the thrill.
As the sky unwinds itself into crimson red,
Its memories stirs the heart with dread.
Evoking pangs of guilt long-ago sealed,
Feels like a never- ending battle
Will it ever truly heal?
Oh! Would it ever get concealed?