End Game

warm air rises

something tells me it’s not silent

because we aren’t either

not with the murder, not with the hanging


misery with longevity can make some cry

many others die, but there are a few who rise

for those who have passed

stand between the grave and the tyrants

I was told not to waste my life

because I’m not a perfect warrior, but

a good man will stand in the face of death

I don’t fear bleeding out, but breathing

under the weight of oppression is slavery

so I’ll do this all day

because they can take everything but my right

to be and live in freedom, yes, that’s my flex

my snap doesn’t eliminate life, but create it

my vision powers my heart, not reacting

but acting out plans created when I was born

am I god of words? or was I made to do more

than write, could that just be a tool

courage is not the absence of fear, but the will

to see beyond it

I run towards fear, miles don’t threaten me