He looks up at the clear, blue sky,

Wondering how many more men will die,

In this fierce battle of rage,

Playing in one's own mind.

Confused and conflicted,

Unable to make his own decision,

Jeered and mocked by other men,

Being a laughing stock and,

Used as a bat inside a prey's den.

He fights with himself,

Oh why so weak was he?

Was it his simplicity, to understand

Complicated things, maybe?

Should he be more prudent,

In this cruel, unfair life?

And must he really fight?

Just to survive?

He has no strength, no willpower anymore,

Every friend has become his foe.

He clasps his hand over his mouth,

His once kindled fire burnt out.

But a voice inside him says,

"Don't give up, it's just the beginning.

You have a whole life ahead,

Survive in the midst of it,

Ignite your fire once more,

It's not the time to muse,

You have nothing to lose."

~Sanchari

Lol this is the most shitty poem I ever wrote but ok .