Everyday, at the crack of dawn ,
I wake up and **** myself.
Instead of a knife, I use a pen.
Instead of blood, ink is spread.
Soldiers march in formation,
from left to right.
They follow the orders of their master,
always leaving blood and massacres in their path.
This war is twenty-seven years old now.
I cannot corral it though, I've tried to stop.
With time comes lessons,
some will never have the honor to be learned.

At the crack of dawn, I wake up,
and **** myself.

Every single day.