Traps

Sometimes your fear

Becomes a trap

Being in a war

Makes it easy

To forget that

You are not in a war now

You do not need to feel fear

Here

Surviving

Fear is a good thing

Keeping you alive in the winter

Makes you run and avoid danger

The fearless might be the dead one

You find them frozen to death

In the morning

Looking like they are still alive

With open eyes

The Prize You Pay In the End of

What prize is it worth paying

For learning about life?

Long time ago

I went to the war

Wanting to save the world

And the world came to me

And said

I don’t want to save you

I do not care if you live or die

You are not my problem said the world

And into the war I went

With people dying all the time

I were in the middle between

Life and death

But none of them had any time

So scared and tired

I went to my calm home

A place where nobody cared

And told them there are horrible

Things going on both here and there

They did not care

We have to put food on the table

And after all its their own fault

Let them die,

After all these years I still remember

And I am still scared

So maybe it was a to high price to pay

To change the world

Let it be

Let it fall

There are so many other fruits

Of knowledge in the tree

Regrets

How I regret that I

Survived the war

I could be dead

Long time ago

Resting peacefully

In the memory

Of a few

So much better

So much better

Karma

But the winter

Is long as life

Itself

Bad Times

Dying city

Decaying city

Filled with rich filth

Destroying the mind and body

Slowly burning city

Falling apart at dusk

Armed men

Guarding cautiously and attaching their guns to their frail bodies

In case of other frail men trying to take what little gold

They might have

No cash has any worth any more

Only handouts of food and water

And of course the eternal metal

Shining so bright in our dirty hands

Circles

The mind moves around

Like a nervous dog

Sniffing on old

Memories of failure

And abuse

.

What could have

Been done different

Or better

Too late

Too late

Creating a fantasy

That evaporates

In thin air

The mind try to

Rest

But there is no

Refuge in sleeping

Flashback returns

Again and again

Like a beggar

Never satisfied

Never happy

Always demanding

That stones

Turns to gold

.