Words of change grow,
A shell broken and boundless row.

If I see it can, why?
For I can do, why can’t he?

Nor can I do, when can I?
Onto itself it’s doomed,
This, I cannot shoo!

I see that there is where
,

What can say what?
How can it be?
Or I am explicitly the.
?

Yet, The question answers none but asks all.
On and on, And still, I stand:
Until, If not I… who?
!

Dead dreams swept by
Sightless eye seek me.
I, a man of many deaths, see.
I, a man wonder-less, go.
I, a man powerless, know.
Folly I step on endless grass of today,
Tread daggers of past regrets of many,
And sleep tomorrow away.
Tread many words of calamity
Not many dare say.
For it won’t happen on my bay,
I tread my row, a Ferryman’s Frey.

I seek to see the equality
While suppressing voices.
I seek equity
To further destroy all equality.
You think we are the same?
No! I’m superior.
I’m a God. Woe is Me!!

I’m a Karen? No there.
I complain, I never care!
You see my darkness?
I’m simply suppressed.
You see I’m right? They agree!
You see, the many can outnumber thee!
I shall conquer your plea!
I shall cancel your decree!
I’m fake democracy,
I’m tyranny!

It’s simply untrue!
I’m mad?
I get paid for I!
Nothing, For free!
Media pi-ons I crave,
Lobbyists pave.

My religion;
My followers;
My faith;
Madness.

Strike, strike, the judges’ night!
Strike, strike, the eternal fight!
Man’s dust claims the starry light.

Seven sins, but hollow shells,
Humanity falters, yet still it dwells.
Wrath’s no sin, though hearts it swells.

Anger of man, a tide of woe,
Must rise, must break, its truth to show.

What is just? God’s searing blight.
What is true? The hammer’s might!

Strike, strike, the heavens’ spike!
Death’s grim laugh, a burdened hike.
Wrath’s deep truth defies the sin,
A forbidden spark, the soul’s own inn.

God spares fools who claim their right,
No judgment falls on fleeting dust.
Eternity’s court sustains the fight
Wrath for choice, for righteous ******!
Wrath’s the forge where hammers sing,
Strike Apollyon’s cursed wing!

Shatter hope that dares to fade,
Let nightmares bleed, let dawn invade.
A seed of grace, the holy blade
Wrath’s fierce will, the heart’s own quill,
Writes redemption’s fire until
The unending night is judged, is still.

A pattern emerges,
Beyond the seems.
It cries,
It screams.

Some are friends.
Some are foes.
Some revenges.
Some sew woes.

It screams to be recognized;
It screams to be.
It is the pattern,
On an apple tree.

Abyss as eyes,
Once it sees.
If one stares,
It will be.