So,
Who must I fight?
Which colossus,
Or establishment,
Shall I battle next?
How many spirits,
Will be strewn in my wake –
When I bring metaphors,
Like apocalypse?
Ruin.
Annihilation.
Oblivion.
Wrought with words,
Sired in insanity,
Point to me my enemies.
Let the good men rest.
Let The Good Men Rest.
