We cast no shadow;
+
The stars do not shine here.
+
Be content to light your own path.
+
And burn what you have crossed-
+
The bridges were frail,
+
The people, pretended.
+
Storm forth with the light of the inflamed.
+
Reclaim and ignite the sky.
+
Brightly to blind
+
Rip off the veneers enabling opportunists to thrive.
+
Dam the rise of grime and rats.
+
More sickening than a social circle that believes itself charmed.
+
Are the writhing droves of blow hards and yes men
+
Clamoring to slither in.
+
Stay sovereign on the outside.
+
We are who finish last, the unaffected,
+
Contrasting the wide and white.
+
We are who finish last-sound, indignant;
+
The iron to gleaming teeth,
+
The salt on saccharin.
+
We who finish last,
+
Proudly in their darkness,
+
Lit from within
+
Glad hands grabbing for brass rings,
+
Painting their brinks gold.
+
Keen sycophants fitly scheming-
+
Furthering the feuds of their adored.
+
They have picked their enemies impeccably.
+
Very keen indeed.
+
And so siege the scorned...
+
We are naught but beds of thorns and dark horses,
+
Unwelcome guests who will just not mind their place-
+
A single musket ball to pierce and lodge inside
+
and lead the circle to crack.
+
We cast no shadow;
+
The stars do not shine here.
+
No genuine light to be found.
+
Only rays of cold, synthetic beams on a mock aristocracy,
+
So the vain and insecure can feel revered and cared for
+
For a cheap, fleeting moment.
+
Truly noble.
+
Storm forth with the light.
+
We who finish last;
+
Proudly in our darkness,
+
Lit from within.
+
Conflict in the chest,
+
To be concerned for the needs of such heartless men.
+
