The Syndrome
This Syndrome...This bad case of violence with a hint of hatred.
The smell of gunpowder, strangling and stealing each breathe I take.
It feels like World War Three.
Death looms in every hall.
Terror lingers, hoping to kill us all.
This Syndrome...
It's ruthless.
It tricks the innocent.
It brings you into its trap,
And promises to let you out.
The changing outside is such a risk.
This Syndrome...
This lifeless life stealer.
This war toy.
It will not be put to a stop.
This Syndrome...
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