Bleeding times, ruthless measures,
All of that immense pressure,
Suffering in silence,
Commencing to the violence.

Laughing through the pain,
The patterns form a chain,
Through every storm, I change my tarp,
As my edges turn razor-sharp.

Power restored in my hands,
When i take on land,
An internal war,
Raging onshore.

Tied to their demands,
Drowned in sinking sands,
A puppet, a pawn,
But not for long.

A lost soul of hope,
Holding tight on this rope,
The wrath under my skin,
Will break generations of within.