In my rearview mirror lies tarnished remains.
Ahead of me are the souls of past generations still decaying.
I'm living in the middle of a war zone,
but this zone of war is where I call home.
Where are all the fairy tales that I was once told?
I still yearn for that lifestyle.
A life when the storm comes,
but soon after a rainbow peaks from the clouds.
I look around with an expression of shame upon my face.
Hoping one day it will erase.
Possibly in due time.
Until then I will bare arms with loaded weapons and join the fight.
First step to change the world is to change ourselves.
But I have conflicts of interest within myself.
I can endure the look of shame, but not upon anyone else.
I see all that's wrong with my environment
and I indeed want an alternative.
But I refuse to resemble the affirmative.
Instead of giving contributions to sunshine,
I am the cause of the tornadoes that unwind.
Bringing havoc among the population without hesitation.
If the world cannot inhabit love, then I'll bring it devastation.
My hypocrisy is that I dream and negate my prophecy.
The peace is a bridge too far.
And the flow of the current is way too strong,
so the storm will be prolonged.
And the world chaos will carry on.