A broken nail, a symbol so profane,
Once strong and vibrant, now a heavy chain,
Bearing the past, the future's weight in vain.
Within its tales, a world of torment lies,
Where souls entwined in endless sorrow's ties,
They seek in death, where solace never dies,
The mercy's touch beneath the starlit skies.
The nail, once whole, now fractured, torn apart,
A mirror of the soul, a broken heart,
Depressed and lonely, shattered from the start,
Amidst the chaos, plays its mournful part.
For in these words, despair's profound embrace,
Unveils a truth, a somber, timeless space,
Where tormented hearts might find their resting place,
In death's embrace, their final saving grace.
The nail, like life, bears burdens too immense,
Yet in its breaking, finds a recompense,
To free the soul from pain's relentless dance,
In death's sweet mercy, find deliverance.
As life's relentless trials in shadows gleam,
Does death, indeed, hold mercy's ageless dream?
An end to suffering's ceaseless, haunting stream.