A product of disciplinary mounting anger for shameful pleasures.
Saturated by agonizing defeat, plastering the souls of humanity.
Solely for self assurance of days being free, without subsidies replacing traditional beliefs
Nurturing concealed possessions soon to be free
Upon a dynasty we all fail to feel.
But sanity knows of me
And sacrifices taking places of serenity.
Though struggles grow profoundly
An instinct isn’t considered a gift