World of destruction inside your mind.
It seems to me that you're running out of time.
Droplets of rain fall on the dry soil where death consumes.
Head strong, pushing yourself into the inevitable doom.
Whether you make it out alive doesn't seem to matter.
Cause a big part of your mind is about to shatter.
Oh the shock of the shell, the piercing of the screams.
All of the sights that will haunt your future dreams.
No, you won't make it out alive, but a new you will.
One that is scarred, cold, and ready to kill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem