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Patrick Chase #S15790
7/13/2022

Volhalla (2272)

Isolation, mental castration; watch as the days blur together
A death sentence that’s not, instead a slow rot; from society severed
“Mercy” they call it, like as if they stall it; it’s better than hanging today
Tortured prolonged, they revel in song; and gorge themselves on our pain
Behind these walls, “Gods” they are called; in love with the power they hold
To own a grown man, slaves to command; barcodes like goods to be sold
Look in their eyes, they don’t bother to hide; by a plastic star they’re protected
Immunity given, walking dead risen; mistreatments accepted, expected
Comfort and purpose? I dare say it’s worthless; a waste of time to pursue
They make it their mission, to squeeze our submission; and cash in the misery due
Every single day is a wargame we play; a struggle, a fight to survive
Concrete battleground, the forge hammer pounds; in sync with the steady tide
Stronger today than I was yesterday; survived all they’ve thrown at me
Not ashamed to admit, that I’m proud of it; still strong tho many were weak
Fell by the wayside, sadly never to rise; crumbled and sold their soul
And while I get why and how honor died; they will not break my white knuckle hold.

 

 

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