This day and age,
I find it hard to release my rage.
People are aggravating; and consuming
Is so very captivating.
I see my two feet from ‘93
Twenty-one and I am not yet set free.
I find release in every piece of work.
I set free the pain and hurt.
Brand new, I stand amongst the few.
Who have the power to choose?
We, who roam loose;
Freedom of choice feels more like a prison.
That is not the world I exist in.
Abusing power and choosing crimson.
If you asked me, I’d say there are some loose ends.