sparkle

Blind

With a glimse of hope comes sign from the brave,
they challenge any danger even if the result leads to a grave.
We fight for there coming and our words seem to stray
when many of us know there not here to stay.
From far off lands we hear there cries, With anger and
regret we are in demise. We give strength to those who are week
with our forked tongues our future seems bleek, desolate roads which
we always seem to embark the future of this land lies in the dark.

-Marcovany Eugene