Half past 4 in the morning. We are all tired. Who would have known that this full moon early morning would suck so much from us when we are just to idle and wait for our turn.
As I returned from this grand test, I am faced with a reality. In this room, waiting for the wrap up, is a resemblance of a life I had been living.
So many slouches, drooling from their mouths. So many distracted from a real threat outside. I am the only one awake and ready to strike. Everyone else seems to be drawn into a deep slumber. Here, I sit waiting for my call. Sometimes I ask, if ever I am real for the call never ever comes.
Am I the only one perched up sitting, waiting and wishing? Am I the only one ready to strike? Then again, does it matter?
I do it for the innocent lives.
I do it for the simple future of others.
I do it for the honour of them.
It don't matter, because I got something to die for. But I want that someone to die for. Ever since then, it throws me back to a huge debacle of my need to fight and my desire to protect.
Does the love really kickstart again? Because mine didn't.
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