your cold hands long to quell me
another frail attempt
i will spit on your traditions
with my final breath

did you trade
your sense of rage
for a stagnant peace
In a well lit cage?

did you trade your
sense of self
for a glimpse of freedom
from a chemical cell?

infinite discontent
i wield like a blade
and when your peace is shattered
i will remain

your cold hands long to quell me
another frail attempt
i will spit on your traditions
with my final breath

a vision of cleansing fire
your world immersed in flame
and as you are torn asunder
i will remain

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