Friday, March 17, 2017


Brutal, the words
that I will speak, may sound.
But I am the life, I am justice.
The day is coming,
the time has come.
Your doom is here,
you can not succumb.

Soon the red droplets,
will rain from the sky.
Roads made from corpses,
will soon be alive,
The deads will kill,
whoever is left behind.

Gardens blossomed
with ashes and flesh,
And no man will be alive
to see the world's end.
How much will you fight?
How many voices will you stop?
How much will kids cry and pray for their loved one?
Tell me how many will you send to die?
How many people are left to destroy?
They say you are afraid,
What's left to be happy now?
They say you get scared,
Blood doesn't frighten you? I wonder how.
They say the demon lies in dark,
I've seen them smiling and laughing in the city park.

You question me,
who am I to speak?
I am the left out good,
within your world of misery.
So what if I stay alone, on my own?
So what if I have no one to hold,
How does it matter?
How does that make you eligible to shut the doors?

You don't like me?
I demand your answerings.
Frightened of me?
Because I am the only one living?
Are you afraid I will speak?
Are you afraid I'll make them believe?
Or are you afraid that it will set them free?