I was an open book
until they made me disappear.
something inside like an earthquake shook
pulling me away from my  atmostfear

Now I'm a symbolic sign.
a set of  numbers and more in a closed file
I have to be more than just a single line
A walking metamorphosis agreeing to nothing except total denial

Any postmortem Resistance
Isn't  really worth waiting for
seeking a symbol that I resemble
the ticking clocks hands fell to the floor
refusing to tell what the time is now
or how much more we possess
till we are marched into the human corral
Victims of conformity  while under duress

what's the deal with all this preparation
cannot store up MRIs for the duration
heated by the glowing ashes once our nation
freedom used to assault freedom is
desecration

stumbling along and through by mechanination
worn down, worn out
.worn over and over and warned about
My reality's ability to remain speculation
As seen by the eye in the sky always looking around

Never be peace beyond the victory station
When ICE remains within the veins
chilling the blood
to quash liberation
When freedom takes Liberty to Injustice…
… prosecution wlll be all that remains