In my mind it is clear, a truth within, I hold the key;

Through the fields of joy, at times of pain, I am fury.


Nurture the food of my disgust, their pain will easy my victory;

Before despondent, insecure, now focused on reality.

My soul can shape the mould of time, I am a chosen entity;

Defy the gaping wounds that cry: Fury is now becoming me.


Tired of reading lies, stretched wretched whore,

Soul searching plea.


Lies nurture my discontent, sick of the same cursing voice.

I will spit on your graves.