Broken spirit Its venom leaks out Every word is a storm Every silence is cold In the end Not every day is scheduled to be the same Our hearts are just puppets in a cruel game of emotions Maybe it's just a lost love Gentle dirt sent from above But the wound was as deep as a flying bullet To see bloodβsome people enjoy it But patience remains my quiet guide Let the world tempt you, let suffering remain I will wear defeat My wounds are like a crown Loss of the power that won't give up
The poem reflects resilience in the face of enemies. Choose patience and acceptance over conflict. and find the strength of humility in the face of wounds and setbacks. and emphasizes the victory of inner peace in external battles.