Listen…
as the whispers take their rise
Boiling depths bide no more time
Hushed
has encountered its due demise
Leveled
now tilted towards rebellion’s side
Sensitivities melted
into a rigid mold –
wounds fortified by its defensive hold
Exhausted
by the pilgrimage of the soul; love
takes refuge ‘neath the armory’s fold
Arid
is the breadth behind swollen eyes, for
fiery veins have replaced their tides
Passions
extended across enemy lines –
no longer compromised by collateral lies
Depleted spirit
granted sabbatical leave, while
arm’s reach slips on a radical sleeve
Invaders flaunt their spoils, presuming reprieve,
but
turnabout’s the fate they’ll come to believe
Survival
transforms the roots of all fear, waking
dormant defenses as outcomes become clear
Dissent’s
marching orders ring the bell for all ears
Revolution
is not coming, it’s already here.
Nik's Place 