World War

Life throws you stones,

And you learn to run and roam,

Hide and escape becomes your home.

No matter the age,

The harsh actions

Makes you turn a moron.

It becomes difficult,

But it's in your cult,

To fight and overthrow.

Yes, the World War is still alive,

It's intangible but it stays inside,

It plays a role to break you multiple times.

Yes, there is no bloodshed,

But the count increases in the illness of the mind

Inside the door of psychiatrists and others hiding with the fear of criticize.

It hurts your brain

And it breaks your heart,

But you need to burn and glint on your own.

In the darkness of War

You need to find your Peace alone,

And settle for your own.