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