The curious incident of the DOVE in the night-time

Welcome to the city of treason,a light shines upon a garden of no apparent reason.
The night is cold and calm. The numbness makes the icicles pierce with ease. A dove, glistening white shines in the darkness. Glowing with its pure intentions. Juxtaposed next to ravens of lure. Incongruous.
It flutters a wing, rises above and falls with grace as the moon shines, pulls out just in time. Paranoia sweeps it's heart,as the privileged heed in awe. The show goes on every night. Until it succumbs to the treachery, it shrieks,it twitches, the grace is lost. No one to see. The pious deception of the ravens thus revealed. They are too busy hon-ing their talons, for there were many a dove in the city. All hope vanquished, such being the vicissitude of it's fate. It seemed the final verdict for the dove. Rest it could not for the desire within it's heart, confused to be vengeance by some.
Got a shining new crown the dove did. A new flock of ravens to please, a new trick would be enough to appease. Only few would see the vestige of the previous night. It feels content ofcourse for a while, although perplexed are it's insides. Alas all are ravens here, mocking truth in their disguise. The only nightingale lies in his memories. The nightingale that he once saw. Wants a raven of a feather, so they could "flock" together, make a nightingale of her, for it to own.
Each night the dove shines. killing it's desires slowly. Unable to harness the greed, now the wrath within, kills a raven too. The privileged stand vivified in the deed of disgust. In stillness lie the victim and the villain. With shame the dove bleeds. Colder 'tis now more than ever. The blood is frozen, an icicle it forms. Would no one see it's pure intention. Not the villain it was the victim. Of it's voraciousness you may say. We wouldn't know that until another day.
"The fragment of time" has now come to a stop. Some night, day would come. The right to bleed be granted to the dove. "The Naive" became it's sobriquet, Although it's feathers now decay, beautifully in the snow it lay. juxtaposed to pretty ravens. Incongruous