Thinking how the world would make peace,
Is like waiting at new-york for titanic to reach；
It wont while your heart would blow,
Thinking of its sad news, you know
To erase an ink with a pencil,
Or try to know where the word travel
where then do you start to alter？
it is always a near hit to a dark matter
but peace is made for the deads, wars for the
living.