The glares blind
the juice flowing from our mind.
In the cold space
That which we hope a saving grace,
Would break the societal chain
Of burdens so heavy.
the weight cracks the glass of our spirit
And seeps into sinking cells
Whispering bitter discouragement that it
poisons the sweet turning it dull
Weakening what little strength we forced.

But the toxic ammunition
Does not destroy our wills
For there's still our intuition
That throws up arms
To soar high and reach a peak
coming down with a force of
thundering drills.

Making the sight clear
Of what needs to be done,
As the strict clock follows orders
he signals the cease of glares
With the force of a gun.