My mind is quite a strange place,
where so many things take root on the 'morrow.
The whispers of those who are 'right' and those who are blind
leave me conflicted.
I cannot make the voices stop...
My mind is an angel, seeking answers and a purpose.
I contemplate whether this war is worth it.
For how the black-listed outcasts fought relentless.
For as bodies litter on the ground around me, off to the Divine; to His apathy, they were blind.
My mind is a coffin, an iron grip.
The Fates have woven my life carefully to watch me fall.
My question is: What is it that I am answering? Who makes the call?
For what reason is pain and suffering here for?
Do you fear what lies beyond?
Do you fear what happens from now on?
