Gun in the left
                        sword in the right
The life of death or the selfless
                                                   fight
                                         Reaching out to seek
Thoughts become twisted and oblique

Thoughts going astray, the cylindrical barrel fitting nicely to the temple
Tears grazing the crescent figure of my dimple

Sword used to carve a smile
           and disguise the sufferings
Giving me hope, I want to stay on this hell for a little while