The night air is cold to the touch,
As I step out my front door,
To the crescendo of fighting,
And my neighbours engulfed in war.
A thousand arrows are flung over the city’s walls,
Setting each and every building alight,
And by the shining of a frowning moon,
I am struck, and my day’s end is in sight.
And now I exist merely to ponder,
And to treasure my very own night,
That will last the length of my life,
With time brought on by another’s fight.
So I collapse to the floor,
The arrow an angry person,
And my body a helpless door,
Such that my condition does worsen.
I feel my conscious slip,
On the arrow that has pierced my heart,
To something with a steel tip,
That severs life apart.
So I imagine what a strong building,
Could be built with all this steel,
That is wasted stealing human life,
And thus I no longer feel.