A battle, a war — my hopes, my peace,
A storm inside that feels to never cease.
Pain in me, like winds that break all that goes,
And reason? Is it there? Nobody knows.

The dreamer, or the dream that wakes?
The mind that gives or the one that takes?

To struggle within is to be alive,
A flame that fights just to survive.
If war was not within me, would I still be me?
Or just a shadow, drifting free?

So let there be winds strong to tear and spin,
For even torn, I rise — and win.