My palm tuned into a fist.
With it, I hold a baby's screams,
And all the world's deaths.
My body turned into an armor.
With it, I guard a mother's life,
And the milk, coming out of her *******.
The only chance of survival,
In the middle of the chaos.
My hopes turned into mist,
With it, I blinde murderous enemies,
And,our end. It won't find its ways.
My shirt turned to a flag of surrender.
A torn-apart one, to save torn-apart lives.
Hand over your anger,
Let me ignite the cannonball.
Pour out your teara,
Let the floods begin.
Crosses carried distorted bodies,
Ones with missing hands,
Ones with missing heads,
Ones with missing legs,
But what they all shared,
Is missing souls.
forced them to surrender.
To save what's left of their memories,
Before they become a memory,
With fellow millions another.
When they look into their reflection,
They see what is left undead,
But they don't see the soul,
That will never again be fixed.
Closer to life they got,
But further of themselves felt.
A chess board they inhabited,
But they weren't a part of it,
Soldiers died. So did the two kings.
But they paid for a fight that's not theirs.
A song, I heard.
They sang an idle song, for those,
Whose souls left their bodies empty,
And left free,
In they space, that might contain,
Their former life's misery.
To a clavery, they headed, bleeding,