Perhaps I just lost in this war.
No inner peace or tranquility.
There is blood spilt everywhere;
Wounded soldiers and Half dead Horses.
My pain, shall soon consume me,
Make me numb, while I bathe myself
With the drums of that doomsday.
There shall be war again!
There shall be a epidemic of unspilled truth!
There shall be music – the sound of inspiration!
There shall be blood, but, pouring from my veins!
Those unseen wounds shall pour out and
New walls shall be built inside.