If we need to bleed in order to create
What would happen when the scars heal?
Will we just join the ordinary?
Shaped into just another cog, destined to participate in normalcy?
I don't want to be gray
I don't want to be monotone
Wring every drop
Twist every fiber
Scrape what is left
Call me a martyr
Call me a fool
But
I would rather die than be another foot soldier in the senseless battle between sanity and practicality
How about you?
