Sitting at the bottom of the well,

Holding my breath,
Waiting to inhale life,
I slip into unconscious bliss,
I scream with anguish,
As I awaken in the inferno.
The puppeteer is forcing me to dance.
I’m like a zombie,
Straddling two worlds,
Aching for rest,
But the show must go on.
I memorize my lines,
And get into wardrobe.
It’s an Oscar performance,
But why? How?
Can’t anyone see my sorrow?
Can’t anyone see through the smile?
The transparent, shallow façade,
To my existence?
Can’t anyone see me?
Don’t you hear my shouts for liberation?
Trapped in this cell?
Shackled by the beating of my own heart.
Ba boom, ba boom, ba boom
Release my spirit.
Instead, I remain trapped.
Can’t you smell the stench,
From the rotting of my soul,
As the worms feast
On the remains of my dignity,
On the flesh of my righteousness?
Too much to be done.
No rest yet, UNDEAD,
Forced to linger on.
I have to complete my task.
The ground’s fertile for revolution.
The seeds must be sown
To reap the nation,
And I,
I am destined to toil in the struggle,
Dedicating every drop of blood that flows,
Until at last there is no more
And I finally sleep.

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