Across the horizon a bird flies,
Black against the orange sky,
Ruffled feathers and flapping wings,
A dizzy feeling but courage coursing through its veins,
Its might and bravery are intact,
The wind its enemy pushing it back,
It strives to move through the sky,
As the ground rages with war cries,
The raven caws and screeches with its shrill voice,
A mingle of wild noise,
Screams and shouts near the land,
Blood-bath at human hands,
The world is a battle-field, a platform for fights,
Conquests and losses are ventures mixed,
Some you cherish and for others you scorn within,
A game for a crown, a game of lives,
For one goal, thousands sacrificed,
It’s a dangerous world down below,
Hence, the raven flaps its wings and flies above,
The perfect spectator of the horrors of the world.
