I try not to think too much
Of what would be my life’s real role
if your wars hadn’t burned to ashes
The jungles of my soul
You say that this is but a brief struggle
And that the fear, with all, will pass
But will you never understand
That you can’t mend shattered glass?
Your hatred crashes like rough waves
Onto the seashells of my mind
And you lie that it’s all for my sake
But this fight is yours, not mine.