The heart bears the marks
And It wears all the scars

The war paint on the face with pride
Looking for some semblance of light

Something to hold on to as it drowns
And as the dust settles on the ground

The heart, very silently, bears the pain
It wears the scars, the marks, the stains

This year there were no fireworks in the depths of my heart
And it hopelessly searched for a dream, a meaning, a sign – in dark