My opinions tickle in my corpse,
So I try to let them go by showing them the path,
Through the window.
Louder than theirs, so they try to compress,
They aren’t familiar with the privilege beliefs gets.
Ascertaining them again and again,
To find the untrue essence of my assertion,
As year’s later I could rule their kingdom.
The stairs of corruption restraining my feet,
As they don’t want someone powerful,
rigidly true to their deeds.
My opinions are like a dagger I hold,
In my life to assassinate the one who isn’t an archangel,
giving birth to a Saint psyche.
I have my visions on the path of wisdom,
I’m a soul having struggles of my own,
Still, attempting to be a good human.