We are at war,
Armoured with only our voices,
A pen and paper our only weapon
Writing our stories,
Stories which will forever remain
within the heart that listen
We are artist,
Artist who paints pictures of reality
Just look closely
Allow your eyes to see the ugly truth that lies within.
Cultivating the soul with all beautiful things.
The picture holds no sympathy
It reveals its ruthless nature unconsciuosly
reflecting the complexity of the critical mind.
The artist doesn’t care about being admired
he only cares about sustaining the reality of his craft.
he is the Soldier
fighting an endless battle
a battle that has no victory
yet its occurrence is satisfactory
It had occurred for long time
taken everything I thought it was mine
made him innocent like a child
he do not know when it began
All he remember is the beautiful sun
The sun that exposed him unto his enemies
leaving them helpless
His craft is heartless
So much blood had been shed
Lots of lesson had been learnt
Inspiring strangers had been met
And he doesn’t feel reluctant to call them friends
They are his family which he never had…
They are his revelation he never anticipated
His words left him uneasy
leaving him in great suffocation
Pleading to find redemption
Then feeding his hunger with great expectations.
Finding myself 