The battalion of sorrow vanquished,
the squad of happiness.
The chief, expectation, murdered most,
now, orchestrating the soldiers of grief behind.
Celebrating victory with joy, over joy.

Pride, Arrogance, Anger to be crowned,
as Heroes of the War.
Lost in the battleground, Contentment, frowns.
The symphony of distress amplifies.
Trumpets of triumph, their cacophony.

Drums of delirious defeat, their dissonance,
Echoing in air , is the gleaming gloom
Mushrooming its extent all over.
The sadness now is deafening.

Troops of happiness have now surrendered.
They say, "the conquest is unattainable."
Contentment spoke, shutting them up,
"Hope is still alive.

He is our strongest weapon.
We don't accept our loss.
Up until, he stays strong,
We 've got strength to correct all wrong."