In the middle of the war
I lay down my weapons.
And let my enemy to march towards me closer
I realise my weapons were outdated.
And will never have the same sharpness as before.
A chapter was left untouched.
But now I have to join the war again;
Before it’s too late.
I have to take up my weapons
And make a stand against my enemy.
But something pulls me inside the surface.
Like a magnetic attraction.
The head is filled up with wild storm
It’s violent, terrible.
A storm rises in my head.
Still stuck there.