I’m a soldier, boots laced in scars,
march through the dark with a heart full of bars.
Every bomb that dropped, every friend that I lost,
etched in my verses like frost on a cross.
I spit rounds of memories, recoil in the beat,
stand tall in the wreckage, refuse retreat.
Nightmares salute me, demons in formation,
I fight my own war—self-annihilation.
Till the flag of my sins folds slow at half-mast,
I’ll battle the echo of every blast.