Deathbed
Drops of liquid trickling down,
A steady and soft rhythm rings.
Uneven take of sharp breaths,
As life is drained through one's veins.
The hardest battle is to be fought,
Yet it seems there is not a chance.
The will is down, the war is lost,
For living is not what the hero wants.
Listen to the unheard pleas,
Oh how his eyes seem to speak.
Of unheard agony, the walls are filled
As the last buzz reach its peak.
The hardest battle has been lost,
But not the warrior, he has won.
For after all the wounds he got,
At last, at night the peace has come.
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