In the watchtower the soldier stands,
exhausted from the long nights of sleep anxiety.
In the watchtower the soldier stands,
weary of the sorrow of the past years.
In the watchtower the soldier stands,
apprehensive due to the menacing cloudy sky.
In the watchtower the soldier stands,
anticipates the impending danger, suggested by the pounding thunder.
In the watchtower the soldier stands,
awaits treachery from everywhere, inspired by the old wounds in his heart.
In the watchtower the soldier stands,
his finger is unable to leave the trigger for a blink of an eye.
In the watchtower the soldier stands,
putting on a rocky face over his tender one, hiding a trembling heart.
In the watchtower the soldier stands,
seeing in every moving branch a potential enemy, urged by his thick foggy nights.
In the watchtower the soldier stands,
waiting impatiently for the horizon to be lit up by the comforting light of day.
In the watchtower the soldier stands,
eagerly awaits the bold sunlight to distinguish between his enemies and his friends.
In the watchtower the soldier stands,
questioning himself, is it possible during the broad, revealing sunlight, his finger could let go of the trigger for just a blink of an eye?