Stalins War A Mirror In A Dark Room
As these excruciating times nest now upon us, will we
have the strength to execute our passions wisely? Or as
every minute bleeds into the next, will these shores of
time subside, and leave us with the blindness of our
hearts. Every legend's wrath will have its day to
embitter its demise into a gain, to patch the broken
lights of its decay; A rebirth in fires leave us slain,
to replace every moment of our pain, to watch you die
again each day with the solace of a hope forgotten and
unsustained. So now as want would now suggest, shall we
fall like all the rest, or do we have the strength to
suffer every moment of our hopes decay? Cursing every
shadow, every shadow of our sight, while slaving for a
second chance, we're guilty of an apathetic glance.
Embolden by no threat or conscious flaw, Inside the will
to live is faltering. In this war of words, I stumble
from my path. I will shoulder every burden of despair
until I die.
