автор: dohtora

The night was dark and not of his own making
The shadows crawling to avenge were merciless and vain
The freezing polar wind was joint aching
It blew the tree of hopes and brought the lasting pain

As justice was for long undone, forgiveness wasn’t on the maps
The destiny of all those fighting - declared free and up for grabs
He lifts his sword and signals fire of thousands arrows taking flight
Against the enemy, aspired to take them down all tonight…

Then... he awoke and pushed away the chairs
His wrinkled forehead was in beads of sweat
The scrawny man still battled with nightmares
He made himself a cup of tea and toasts of bread