Blood rains of tears
Pouring down from the clouds of pain.
Covering faces of fear with it's deadly fogs...
This lone soldier shall never go down from such in vane.
My bones might ache
My soul maybe in turmoil....
He shall never quit or hold back for anyone's sake.
He shall win and survive.
He is beating the odds.
As he thrives.
In this land where poverty weakens and it sometimes kills.
He voice for the lost is louder, still.
As his heart beats a rhythm for all strong human wills.