They built their mold
around their cages of lies,
yet I am never to grow old,
ripping as lightning in these ******* skies.
They fear the light,
so they hide the flame,
but I’ll burn their walls,
afraid they take my name.
I will not run,
I will not cry,
their hands crush me—
but I refuse to glance a single eye.
So let them be told
to end my time—
I’ll burn their mold,
I’ll continue to rhyme.
I write like **** when it's 2am but it's the only time I have ideas so here we are, a poem I didn't know what to name, and a mental breakdown becayse I wouldn't think of a word to rhyme with mold!