Tick tock tick tock;
He's running out of precious time.
Bang go the guns;
Bullet shells falling into the blood dipped grass.
Boom go the life threatening bombs;
Black smoke smothering the once bright sky,
As the vultures sing their song of mock.
What used to be beautiful now looks like a dump
The clock starts to chime;
He's now breathing through blood-felt lungs.
Hiss goes the bombs of strange odored gass.
Now covering his mouth with his dirt covered palms,
He refuses to succumb and lifts himself up
For it's a battle against his own broken mind.
Think of yourself as him, and replace every negative thing in the poem with every negative thing locked inside yourself. Be the hero of your own war.