Blood, Sweat and Tears

These cries of pain,

They echo in the plains,

These tears in the rain,

They fall through the darkest of flames,

What pushes these souls forward?

What gives them strength?

Who knows the pain that lingers,

Deep within their fragile fingers,

The cold etches a drought,

Their eyes shut tight from tears throughout,

And a massacre of words their kings provide,

But no hope and peace and a place to hide,

They cover their ears from screams of sight,

There wander away their dreams are blight,

These demons of red skies they forever fight,

In hours so deep there is no night,

What moves these men and women forward?

What gives them fire inside withdrawn eyes?

Is it not a flickering of perpetual light?

Where only one can find a single delight?

No, it is but the iron in their bones,

It is the fire in their blood,

It is the howling in their spirit,

It is their very own Blood, Sweat and Tears.