There was a time, when you
walked with your
heart on hand, shinning.
Nothing could impart
you, but then as a poison,
Civilization toppled your
walls  screamingly and bore
its burden upon your arms
and spirit.

Bounded, they spat on you,
shackled you with their insults.
They called you Beast,
but in your own way,
you were anything, but
slaven.

You are conflagration, but
Civilization consumes you,
mutiny creeps in the cells
of your veins, you hope to
strangle it and charm
the world as yours.

You are expected
to be a saint, but you are
anything but saintly.
You are a raw torrent of velocity
-you await to burn dry the world
of its own criminal flood, the
very one that binds you.

They deny you, to be any
part of god, but god's machinery
is nothing but cosmic, ******, profane
blasphemy, hunger, goliath, mutiny,
unbroken.