Somehow

Realistic dreams turn to reality.
Triads and mafians turn to fight through the war for victory.

I fight for things that I could never ever get, and earn for each play.
Pray for glory, or pray for nothing.

One who wishes light shining upon the wisher's thoughts,
one which does a foul play and lit the gloomy dark on the wisher's thoughts.

A call for help is a call for distress.
If ain't nobody there to save you, you'd end up having a coma in your mind.

And the invisible wall blocks your way to escape,
making you lose faith, drown in your own senses.


Okay that's weird.
._______.
Somehow these words suddenly appear on my mind.
I've randomly typed them out.

My mind's set not secured.
A little off somehow.