Everyday. Knowing what I know. Seeing what I am. Looking at I am looking. It is like a nightmare that I swing, choke, and run without movement. I holler. It is nothing but squeezed wheeze. Some see me, look past me, refuse to hear. Some hear. Some nod.
Yet I know, there are those who see and claw.
Fight. Fight. Fight.
I might not be allowed this fight but I howl from my cage for others to rise. And when my chains break, I will be unleashed.
Fight. Fight. Fight.
For Everyone against the Worshippers of Gold and Thralls of Ignorance, for fire seem to be the only awakening for meek bleating trained sheep against serpents and lapping few-toothed wolves.
Dua Sutekh













