The Cursed Reality Of The Broken Glass

The sanctity of the sanctuary
lingering to the past
the guns of war are rusted now
the barrels only hold the memory of fire
it has forgotten the taste of powder
the spark and the friction
the blood and the demon.

Drenched in the handkerchief of misery
are the stains of victory
the pumping blood of fury
triggers unconscious state of anxiety
search for the bones for some sympathy
nothing seems to hold the world together rather than self empathy.

The laughters are snatched
and joyous ecstasy are blown
100 days of horror
insist upon the revolution
within,
inside lies the shattered glass of tragedy,
violence is the only solution
im only conditioned to die.

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