It's 3 in the morning. I lay myself to bed wondering, what'll be next? What'll happen tomorrow? The day after tomorrow perhaps?
Ah, questions. Questions that lingers in my head though the answers clearly present themselves in plain view. Questions that I long to answer but by choice, I do not. Why? Because I am a prisoner, a prisoner of an invisible war.
I have my notebook, I have my pens and I have my bullets. But where is my weapon?
Ah, I have but none for I have surrendered 'em all. I am now but a soldier without a gun, imprisoned amidst all the fun.
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