Ice Tigers

Hiding eyes from building burning bright
Pressing heads onto pillow,
seeking comfort from a promise things will get worse.
But what if it's much worse?

When bombs fall. Landing in our backyards.
No matter where we go, explosions seem to bring us all home.
Instead of counting sheep, I'm standing outside your window
hoping that you will call your friends.
To no longer hide behind the lies and comfort ignorance provides

Sundays spent searching for some good news
but numbers rise and fall in all the wrong directions
so individe
disasters manifest.
"into political unrests"

I wonder if the world is suffering in unison.

All these words, saying its my time to stand tall.
Jokes aside, wasn't everything gonna be better when we grew up?