A billion words,
a thousand stories,
those are all I have.
Yet I couldn't write
a single page
if you had even asked.

The stories keep me going,
keep my head among the clouds
but my feet upon the road.
I see the beginning, the middle, the end
but pen and paper couldn't meet
to write the words that once had flowed.

I am drowning in ideas
of the characters I see
but when it comes to make them real,
they are gone like in a dream.

The battle’s begun,
The damage is done,
The lives of so many are lost,
But at no cost
To the ones who have it all.

They wear their uniforms to fight for justice,
The people who hold the weight of the world.
They are responsible for the nations that grow within it,
Still, into the abyss they are hurled.
They blacken the earth, and poison the sky,
Leaving people broken,
Like a mirror being shattered.

Their lives broken into a billion pieces,
Every mother, every child, every brother,
They’re all caught in the crossfire.

They seemed worlds apart,
But their stories have one heart.
What is a triumph to one,
Is soul-destroying to another.

How can you be proud,
Of a world that destroys itself?
We must trade our guns for love,
And save each other, before we are too far gone.

The world began without people,
And that’s how it will end.
The collateral damage has been so painful,
That even the worst cannot pretend,
These mistakes have cost us too much.

The circle will be complete,
And the world will end how it emerged,
Devoid of the life that had found its place,
To be defeated not with grace,
But with the bombs and guns that will destroy us all.