Bad Blood

"Even stars have their limits." He began quietly,
"Ours ... is born in the East, as it dies in the West;
Everyday, an endless cycle, 'til we draw final breath.
I pretend to be free,
While the stars watching over me,
Have no choice but to trace the same path they've just left."

There's a restlessness, from familiar ochre farmlands to white sandy beaches; the echo of a war fought with anger and fear. How could I be the only chance at peace, when one, just as violent, rages on inside me?
A battle of nature and instinct.
A war of impulse and foresight.
I'm torn between two halves; the ripple parting the sea from the sky.

Oh this torture may seem like the greatest limit of all, but its a double-edged sword;
there's power in this pain and well ... its limitless.