How it began

To understand the fire that burns my eternal soul

I’ve built cities on the backs of those I’ve enslaved
I’ve carried weapons acquired from beyond the grave
My time comes with a swift shell of silent benevolence
I’ve come so far from where I’ve began and yet it feels so empty
Crawling, scratching and fighting my way to the top
To finally rise out of that hole I so desperately called home for what could only feel like a melania when compared with my darkened mind
I find the warm sun against my skin feels more like a string of thorns ripping me as if I was only paper
Posing as if I were no better than a broken statue held up by the hopes of those that watch me closely as if my movements were carried by a jesters hand
Gracefully pushed and pulled around like my body was attached to strings and called a sweet puppet

My smile never wavered but my peace was consumed by greed and knowledge