My Silence

We paraded the streets since before recollection

Of bullets and knives, of brains we painted

Never alone, but with people identical

I run with blindfolds chaining my hands

A race to wherever the fittest point fingers at

Back and for, weary, nothing else to do anyways

And to search to destroy this hamster-wheel life

Is torturous shortcut with no end in sight.

Always would the right for the heavier stones

In scales made unbreakable by its very fiction

To rebel long enough amounts public guillotine

We duly promulgate in devilish aid

Will I live short enough, preserve my innocent face

Or rot in a breathing corpse, at the doors of asylum?

Not too sure if I warrant this arrest

But authority is a license I will never get.