GloMag GloMagMay2019 - Page 307

To rain death upon me and my trusting brothers Here I am on the frozen soil Not enough hands, a nation of a billion To pick up bits & pieces of my tattered flesh Strewn all over this war torn frozen soil I can no longer hold my furious sobs within I need to let out this howl long into the night A war cry to awaken my sleeping brethrens Your sense of security is a fallacy Unclasp these chains of magnanimity Confront the cowardice cowering within The attack was frontal, it is now guttural Your guts will be spilled on the streets Your home is under fire, Your loved ones will be dragged into the pits to be butchered What will you do, don't you feel, don't you feel But I feel, I feel even in my agonized death A call to set this wrong right 307