Eons later the silver-bell laugh is genuine,
Bouncing around the halls full of familiar faces.
The smile is not forced, working as a medicine,
For those who still searching for their graces.
No shadows fouls the beautifully scared skin,
Thy demons trained and know their place.
The due is paid to past, to devil and his kin,
It’s not revolting to wear once hated face.
The snide remarks don’t work. Thou taking no ones shit.
Thou’ve crawled but survived, and thou’re proud of it.