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Army of None
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A Scar is Born I take a look in the shattered mirror and notice that from our never-ending battle I'm a bit broken and older,
I open up my bedside window to take a peek at the dark parade-infested streets and notice that the world has wickedly become corrupted and colder.
Every time I take a walk in the local park it seems like the American flag is at half mass,
Whenever the sun attempts to break through the congregated stratus clouds, the rain and pain always seem to amass.
Put down your guns…they serve no purpose on my land,
A poet is a soldier that marches on with a pencil in his hand.
The death of a million innocent souls is just a number, but a tragedy is just the death of only one,
You can kill a Terra Cotta army of a countless number of disposable clay men, but you can never destroy an army of none.
I stare at the enemy and notice that from our bitter animosity we are a tad tired and considerably weaker,
I open up my eyes to take a peek at the opaque skyline and notice that only I can be the peace police's public speaker.
Every time I take a walk in the local hospital it seems like the American heart is not at a consistent beat,
Whenever the truth attempts to break out of its rusty cage, the tears and fears continuously clutter together upon the crowded street.
Swallow your lies, they serve no purpose on my ground,
A poet is a soldier whose message will always be imbedded in ink and ideas will always be around.
The death of the world population is merely a statistic, but an atrocious casualty is the death of only one,
You can erase every hawk that hunts in the sky and every man who wears a camouflaged uniform, but you will never escape the wrath from an army of none.
...We are one, an army of none,
What's done is done, but the doves still haven't won...
