I fight a lot.
I fight you a lot.
The words I buried,
The screams I swallowed,
The presence I concealed.
When dawn is called forth by the heavens,
When dusk falls like a heavy curtain,
I appear like a blasphemy at the graveyard of my freedom;
Armed with masochism
And a shovel on my back:
To dig out all you made me hide
Out of pride.
I fight a lot.
I fight you a lot.
And I must admit my magic must be carrying all of my
Insanity
To make your ghost appear as my powerful opponent…
In my mind…the dirty battlefield I’ve made it since I chose
Censorship over Freedom.
The audience of my fights and battles against you always watches us with pity in their eyes.
Stop summoning this ring, they demand. Stop fighting.
Give your hyperactive mind
The rest and peace it so much cried for.
And still I fight.
