WAR: The Dark Nightmare by Morteza Mottaghi.

The Son of Man

There must be time where this began;
When I became, as told my name — the son of Man.
There must be time, where speech and rhyme,
Where law and crime, and earth, and clime
would take the soul out of thy prime
and make the world for Man.

There must be time where we would dream;
That Skyline screams that starry skies scheme;
To end all life, to conquer, kill, feed and thrive,
To force all to end; all ends strive
So Life and Man cannot survive,
But perish in a gleam.

There must be time where I was death,
where I would annihilate all in a breath,
O woe me O woe, My spring does snow
with hells inside,I refuse to know;
A pestilence that ceaselessly flow,
as bulletproof as myth.

There must be time where this began;
When I became, as spoke my name — the son of Man.
There must be time where all ends meet,
where all would pass, break, and beat,
Where endings die, the day they greet
the renaissance of Man.
— There must be time where this began;
Where I would be the Son of Man.

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