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
streets
their graffitti promises ruin
they are gods
apocalypse will come from the prose on their tongues
suppression
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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