there is a riot in my chest
no longer the muffled discontent of one renegade
                                                 soap box
          but a chorus
      thousands strong                              singing in burning
                             their graffitti promises ruin
         they are gods
apocalypse will come from the prose on their tongues
                                  is their opiate
                                            they greet the fist of discipline
                              with bloody grins
                                                     from the city they call out their king
I know this, you see,              because
                            there is a riot in my chest.

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