Resist my most malevolent thought.
This shell of a man, what am I to you?
What will I become.
This potion holds the key to his release.
Evil swells up.
It has begun.
The days grow shorter.
It is the night of the rising sun.
Taxied out by towncars.
The rich would never realize.
The end is only just beginning.
Revolution reins his horse.
We see what we can't explain.
The fight is being won.
How could it be? That the masses would amass a force to harass the higher caste?
But this isn't a system,
We're just starting with em.
They'll regret the decision, untimely ended, left to rot upon the ground they left our souls around.
Without the leaders, chaos now surrounds us.
Step up, no one can hold you back.
The fact of the matter is that you embody our victory.
Albert Witz's Other Poems
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