From the highs surviving carnage
A celebration of living on
To the mundane existence still
Listless, without purpose
Wishing it all to end
Hoping that it will come soon
At the same time like a child
Fighting, intensely obstinate
But off to bed in the end
Where tranquility is lingering
Like a fated serpent striking out
With no cause to do so
Its nature to be offensive
Never to defend, stalemated
No reserve, no regrets
Conscious lauding aside
On this lawless plane
Where living is often found
Through the demise of others
Triumphant respirations so
A ritual of charged renewal
Brought on through decay