thousand of rhymes scattered on my blank sheets. every syllable holds the memory of battles that i've faced and will be facing, spilling my very soul on every piece that i've scribbled hoping it will be the metaphors to relieve my withering verses. i was nothing but a bleeding warrior— a bleeding poet with the paper as my shield, my heart and emotions as the ink, and a pen that will serve as the sword in this big battlefield.

but i was never alone in this battlefield. along with this journey, i had my comrades who did also possessed a heart that bleeds. allowing these very feelings and voices to flow from thy hearts. as our words were written down it has formed a life. thus, i've always thought that pen is indeed mightier than a sword. and if you did asked me why, it's simple. the pen has a huge and far-reaching impact while a sword does only have a short reach. and so we've made the pen as our weapon to stop wars and to create peace. using it to change hate into love and using it to also fight for friendship.

these words and verses sure could heal or ****, either start or quash a strife.

we are nothing but the bleeding warriors who wields the power of writing. the users of words and emotions, again with the pen to create new life and letting it be an eye-opener. we are the defenders of the underrated, illuminators to darkness, and fighters of the words unsaid. the chaotic emptiness of our papers that requires to be filled and fought; the blood we've spilled in the battlefield, our words as the blade, and the verses and rhymes we've created to build a fortress and shield.

we are the ones who breathe and live for poetry and literature. the ones who have no hesitations to cut down our souls, to tear down our faith so long as we could still bleed to create a masterpiece, and a life-changing chance for ourselves and to everyone. we have hidden a lot. from every composition and lines created, it held and hid the voices of pain, sorrow, anger, hate, retribution, change, and feelings. with these voices and words that are hidden and unsaid, it revealed the unfamiliar to familiar minds with the help of us, the bleeding warriors.

and until now, i keep on bleeding. i keep on writing. but i have as well devoted my life along with them— along with the writers of the society, the voice of the voiceless. and if ever my life had and would come to an end, sure it would be with full glory and might.

If Love were a battle which side would you choose
For one Side will claim victory  and the other side shall lose
As one side puts trust in armor to protect and shield their heart
As the opposite side wears nothing but trust and faith  as the battle is to start
Arrows begin to sore bouncing from the hearts wearing armor made of steel
Others left wounded and scarred of the ones they don’t ****
Love Will never be felt by the ones left without injury  and walked away
But the ones that had trust and faith   That let down their guard will find true love one day

I took ten lives
to save a thousand

I lost a battle
to win a war

To hold up the halo
I got my horns,
because I cannot take the rose,
without taking all its thorns.

there's a battle going on inside my mind
i dont know what is real
i dont know what thoughts are mine
constant gunfire
everything moving except for time
the casualties are high
i gather and lay our dead in a line
my brain is bleeding
its turning more sour than a lime
i'm going insane
trying to replace what i can't find