We the people,
Are suffering through a tribulation,
Our backs bent by the weight of a broken nation.
We've been tossed onto a coarse battlefield
But we will stand and fight
We will not yield.
Our armors buffed by the roaring tide
Stones thrown from the arm of pride
Their words are sharp
they pierce our skin,
But we will brush them off
We won't let them win.
Our minds dust on the winds of war,
Our thoughts silent behind a closed door,
The key is gone
The lock is turned
The ashes scattered
The words are burned
About the Creator
Amatsi Writes
I write because I can't speak when no one listens.
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