I feel it

It’s thunder

It’s raging in my core

Breaking the trees of my opinion

Shattering the windows of my self confidence

 

It’s more than a pretty face on TV

 

It’s a tyrant

Has absolute rule over this generation

Executes the innocent

It’s tears on a bloody ax

 

But it’s perfect

 

This death is what we strive for

Takes away breath and soul

Burning bridges

Empty rooms

 

All that's left without the cosmetics

Fingers twisted holding on to a dreams

Dragged away by stereotype

 

But its perfect

 

This death is what we strive for

The thunder of the rolling clouds

And the acceptance of that which is king

Killing our friends

And burying that which was their minds

 

Twisted fingers holding on

Grasping tight to our generation

Simply because we will not let go

But its perfect now isn't it?