And as he lit himself on fire
he though "you are all just liars"
And he knew deep in his heart
We wouldn't die for our beliefs
As the flames grew ever higher
and the man became a pyre
We realized right from the start
We were never really complete
And as we watched this martyr burn
Before us into ashes he did turn
We knew that he knew what it all really means
He would burn for his beliefs right out there on the street
For all of us to see he burned right in front of me
Sending a terrifying message with his manufactured scene
It is obscene, that we won't even stand up for our dreams
We get herded just like cattle to the end of everything
But that man, he went and chose a different way
He didn't want to be herded for another ******* day
I appreciated all his rage and his savage final play
And I think I understood right then what he was trying to say
Screams sounded out from the hollows in the daylight
As the people rushed towards ash and dust just so that they might
Help to save a poor depraved and crazed man with firm beliefs
It was at that moment that I felt like I could finally see
I doused myself and shouted out against the worlds injustice
I followed the example and led the most extreme of protests
I wept and screamed as my body burned, though I am not much of a crier
But sometimes in order to change the world you must set yourself on fire

I need this,
For me it's like an addiction,
I find excuses for why I am the way I am but in the end,
It's this that is my most honest form.
Anonymous,
Hidden behind a pen or a keyboard,
Spilling my soul in words rhyme,
Turning off the lights and losing all senses of time.
I scare myself and feel like I can't lose grip,
Because I never really had a hold.
Freedom is a false desire because what is it really?
I don't want freedom, I want love.
I don't want freedom, I want to feel alive.
I'd rather live surrounded by tyranny and fascism,
But be freed by love,
Than be surrounded by love and acceptance,
But be trapped by my internal struggles.
Truth is I've driven myself mad with thought,
I'd love to just turn my mind off and just coast,
Like a bike that just flies.
But maybe when push comes to shove it's that madness that makes me who I am.
Without it who am I?
I'm no one,
I'm a robot just going through the motions,
With a fake smile, a red cup, and someone I don't really know on my arm.
So ***** that I'll be the crazy one in the back of class,
Who shows up late and keeps quiet, and gets high and rides a bike at night.
Just feeling the cold winds against my live skin.
Letting my mind run free and light up the dark skies.
This is where I am free and this is my addiction.
I live in the grey areas and the parts of life that get overlooked.
I've spent so much time being angry at being overlooked and being walked past,
By those in the black and white parts of life but maybe I was wrong.
Maybe I'll spend my time looking around at the overlooked and I'll find my missing piece.
It's hard to find anything when you stare at your feet the whole trip.

People don't die beautifully for living plainly.
The most gorgeous deaths stem from lives made entirely of chafing and scratching
At the eyes of bystanders and the legs of elites pushing pencils and having babies.
Women do not make history sleeping in the arms of men
That stroke their hair and tell them they're beautiful.
Nor do they change the course of a nation by smiling at those they're told to smile at,
By following rules and setting limits on their intellect and imagination.
Likewise men do not make history kneeling in front of a stone with the word destiny written in repetition
On its surface.
Men do not alter reality by being societal representations of men. Of trees. Of beasts.
Men, and women, who make history,
Who have died beautifully, tragically, desperately,
Have died in incredible circumstances. Have been remembered
For being a thorn in the side or the splinter in the eye of the path laid out by reality
So every breath and every sight was them. Pestering.
Until they could no longer be tolerated.
That's when they were remembered.

Moved up to the next level
Still on the bottom
Aiming for the top
Proving myself all the time
Doing it for me not anyone else

I'm sorry you had to steal
what was already freely given.
I hope your heart never burns
like mine did the day I wrote that.
I give to you freely
what you honestly deserve,
that is a second chance,
and a word of advice.
Give from yourself,
no gift can ever be poorly graded.