Fading Flower

Slowly dying, I'm losing the one hope I had in you My spirit follows the path and never breaks I keep shooting at the ceiling glass Hoping that someday a pattern might emerge The world is becoming more dangerous and hostile And my senses are stronger than ever always on the run Is peace given or should we make our own? I will not allow the destruction of my people The world shall burn and regurgitate on itself before I give up Warriors are born and never made.