Armors Poem by Je'free Y .

From the cradle down to the grave,
It seems everyone carries on with an armor,
Like a defensive metal covering for the soul,
Safeguard from wounds, protection from bleeding.

Living in scarcity or plenty, in poverty or prosperity,
Any kind of world has always been a combat.
The prowling warriors have every weapon
To take captive of someone's most luscious piece.

Bask in my spotlight. Hitch on my blaze of glory.
Reap the seeds of labor that I sowed.
Scrape a portion of me - a friend, lover or family
For now that my name is in lights.

The advantage of the poor is that they are loved
Not for their wealth, not for their money,
Here, in a hunting ground, where every hunter
Looks up to the atmosphere, aiming at a target.

Any kind of success can be possessed.
The hard one to acquire is pure love, unconditional.
Until then, I shall keep the core of my being shielded,
The eyes of my wise self, constantly on the lookout
For a spear or bullet shot from behind,
Straight to my face, or any trap laid around the corner.