Leaving behind a title,
Breaking the barricades;
Calling out for revival,
Hurling out hand grenades;
Fighting for survival,
Peeling off charades;
Waiting for avowal,
While through degradation we wade.
Half eaten leaves,
Rustling in the forests;
Sorrows in sheaves,
Rainbows? Not for ghosts!
Displaying our souls as colourful tappers,
We dip my passions in blood lusty vapours.
We are the summer turned to winters,
The many clichés often overheard.
Of memories and aches,
We're a silhouette.
Trained for 'actions' and 'takes',
We're a well-tailored marionette.
Linked by a chain,
We're a lovers in pain;
This is our life,
Our silence, our strife.
We are shadows drawn in mists,
We are the muteness that always is,
And our voices your ears resist.
Distant rhythm of a hammer hitting an anvil,
Disfiguring the metal in between;
Moments of silence, that impatiently standstill,
Until blood spurts from places unseen;
Sounds of dominance thriving until,
The pale fingers destroy the machine;
Music of life and its muffled freewill,
We'll surely discover what they mean.
We are no longer the pebbled you threw,
We are no longer the dust you blew,
We are nolonger the drops you knew,
We are no longer the specks you drew.
We were your prisoners,
Your wax figures,
Battered and scattered,
Played with and melted.
We are a multitude of rebels,
Out of your holding cells,
Throwing your memoirs behind bars.
We claim what is ours
Freedom and dignity,
A life of peace and liberty!