It fired successive

artillery shots into his heart.

from the speed piercing it apart

His heart is broken into million shards

And now it bleeds like a painful art

It was not his destiny bought him sorrow

Nor was it the bow and arrow

It was his misfortune playing hard at him

Weakening him inside his body and limbs

Swelled his eyes begging the lost

Somedays withered even the tears felt short

Giving a look at his memories back into

Reflections of past whose truths he never knew

He wrote his fortune each day with the blood

He is free today without his hands chained or shackled

Stained in red and smelled iron

He is on his own way a path to new terrain

- sharuk