In the quiet of the night,amidst thunder's roar,Their smile gleams bright ,a beacon to explore,Each thorn that pierces,leaving scars sore,Yet from wounds,new verses, they tirelessly pour.For the dance of pain ,and in love's sww eet eet embrace,Ever tear y shed becomes a line of grace,Every sighwhispered finding its place,In the symphony of words,love's eternal embrace. The blood would flow,paintingthe p age p '