That day when...

When they’re planning
All the parties with
Fairy lights and sangrias
Us, the warriors
Sitting right here,
Looking at the moon
Are just secretly wishing
To not bleed inside on just that day.

That day, when they celebrate
The new, and forgive the old
The day, they change digits
And believe in a fresh streak of hope
Just that one day, can’t we warriors
Not war with ourselves, our insides?

On that night, they’ll pop the champagne,
While we on our ever so vulnerable borders
Will just be dreading an unknown attack
With our arms and ammunition tied on
To our chests and head
We’d just wait for no new war.

Us warriors, have no new year
New month, new week, new day
Our never ending wars,
Lost and won battles
Misery and glory have become
Oh so stale,
Yet there are no new joys and sorrows.

Us warriors, are stale
Our days don’t change
Even after the sun and moon
Have made enough love
No new day or night is born
It’s stagnant, painful, hurtful.

No new, no old.