We have funny colored hair
And we sing our corrupted music a little too loud
We paint pretty pictures of revolution
Right on the surface of our diamond-studded faces.

We run away from responsibility,
In fear of not meeting the standards set by generations before.
Work hard, no sleep.
Play a little less, fall under the knife.
When will we reach the ****** of
This demented little fairytale?

Sit in a perfectly placed corner,
Smile wide, and don’t say a word.
They’re going to muffle your cries with cotton, anyways.

Can we feel a fearful nausea as we sense the
gate to the pit of hell gently open & two blazing
red eyes gleam oh so malevolently as they gaze
out into the world for fresh victims,
but of course ...

Can we feel a hatred a deep that it seems out of all
proportion but actually when we ponder it at night
& see parades of washed-up, drowned, sodden
refugee children littering sandy shores,
but of course ...

Can we feel a loathing so profound when we realize
that what he's doing is really with all this is filling
his own coffers with mounds of gold while grinning
so awfully at the suckers he makes of us all,
but of course ...

Can we feel an anger so encompassing that at times
it seems to consume us in its vast inescapable darkness
as we see the old folks hunger, the sick get sicker, the
weak get weaker,
but of course ...

Can we desire some sort of cathartic & ****** revolution
where heads site agape & vacant on spikes & sweet sisters
of the revolution storm ramparts & free prisoners & then
round up their own amongst the swelling bloated rich
& the eternal enemies of the people,
but of course ...

Can we feel o.k. with these thoughts, these fantasies born
of an acute & abiding knowledge of how awful these times
are & promise to be & embrace them & shout them from
the rooftops & declare in all honesty,

******* you & swift be the justice, amen.

The confusion collapses around me
A torrent of emotion barreling though members of the crowd
But it only takes a second

Now everything is clear

And....

Honestly
All I ever wanted was to be cut free
Is that as shallow as it seems?
In my heart
I know
No one will mourn
Only regret
For what could of been

You'll never know it
But i fought for you
I worked this breif day away
I sutured the pain
I sewed my mouth
And threw my soul
All of this
To gain or regain

Now no one knows
And yet they care
Or i know they would've
Had they seen me

As this here, or, my world
Is pulled undone and beams of light
Pierce the darkness and my eyes
Lifting up
I've yet so much to do
Help me

Sometimes, for years together
we die every day, we suffer

We live the same cycle of pain,
making resolutions in vain

Then, one fine day, out of nowhere
It comes our way; we stop and stare

As if, it broke our train of thought
In reality, it helped strangle the monotony we fought

Until that day, from inside a grave, we stared outside at evolution
Our world stood still, but now, it tides a revolution

A seeming chaos has never felt more comforting, more structured
Now that we're following our own orders, untethered

The injustice
either hardens or breaks the human mind
The mind
must choose how to fight against the injustice
The choice
of non-violence is not a sign of weakness
The knowledge
of why you fight is more important than the fight
The strength
to suffer is the time between despair and triumph
The ability
to turn the other cheek is the holiest weapon
The act
of vengeance is the weakness of a human being
The love
for the wounded is the reason they follow you
The memory
of the dead is the passion to believe in the vision
The revolution
in you ends when you no longer hate a stranger