Supple cry

 We know, so why no new news.
We dream, but yet I’m so lost.
We fight, can I hold your sweet hand.
We pray, standing old ground.

We bleed, so scared there’s a cure.
We hoard, yet no one moves out.
We grow, can you envelop my shadow.
We wish, walking alone after the truth.

We try, so never pat my back.
We rush, but failing to meet time.
We hide, can darkness be safe.
We watch, standing on a homemade landmine.

Pain, the pain called “We”
Pain, the pain called “free”
Pain, the pain called “See”
Pain, the pain called “Me”