Words escape me when I think too deeply for far too long.
Sometimes I contemplate whether the things I inspire are wrong.
A perfection to acheieve in the world of precision.
But, yet I wait for the world to make its incision.
To cut into me and allow the freedom in my veins to bleed.
Bleed me out dry until I die a saint with my people freed.
I await the creep of content to crawl into the confines of my chest.
And there it latches itself like a parasite, a lovely pest.
I realize that the world has more to understanding.
If It ever hopes to escape reality's command.
So, I write these words to sing my heartsong.
In hopes that humanity won't be in chains for too long.