I spit in the pages
the bitterness of my burden
I paste a smile on my face
to white wash the deep emotion
Each land has a time
For the birth of a rebel,
A rebel could create sunrises
A rebel could transform sunsets
A man of no fixed address
has come to claim his worth
A man withouth a name has come to claim a surname
The rebel hungers for necks to wring,
fingers itch to claw out eyes
knuckles bunch to bruise mouths
The rebel twitches
To silence mouths spewing lies
that crowd unsuspecting ears
Daily assailed by flowery farts
The rebel roars
with the sagehood of experieence
Garnered without greyhairs
As he shakes finggers of fury
In the clouds of biting truths
the rebel must out
search for him
because each minute a rebel is born
At the murder of an idea
Nice one bto
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