I know you wouldn’t feel the pain.
Free the explosion upon my head,
Will die just once and so shall you live once
We are entitled to vain vows, prick O my flesh!
‘Cause you wouldn’t wail, you wouldn’t be kissed by hurt.
On your high ranks, I stare with eyes below.
Implode my bones and lacerate my skin;
Maul my strength, but my soul surely sits.
My fellows shall die of your mindless wish
More greeds: gluttonous gluttons of power.
Though we’re on highway of rest,
Rather live not, than to host rain on my cheek’s scar.
We’ve been ravaged countless times
Our shredded rags now of useless worthiness
The future rejects our reeking lives
For you wrecked its floating boat.
More, more! O pain let thy blade gash me!
For sorrows too is used to our bloody bitterness
Each day. So we bid to life as we live,
Dead citizens, like ants in clumsy mash
Demons of green-white;
Faithful heralds of corruption,
You too must pass away!
meet the poet: Stephen Crøwn Gyet