It seems that not much can change me.

     There is not much surrounding me that can change my course...

     What makes me the me that you can see?  What alleviates the pain that you inflict?  What purpose do I have when I can't see the purpose in you?  Have you ever turned an eye towards me or have you always turned your blind eye?

     When was the turn of the tides that broke me from the crushing waves that encapsule me?  Why did you feel a need to bury me when all I needed was a sign and a reason to be?  Were you ever there?  Were the nerves ever struck to make you see the true me?

     I love to think of the everlasting.  I love to believe in the signs of truth...although they exist only in lies.  When will you show the face of truth?  When will you ever come out to the party?  I love to believe in the things that make me whole...but the reality is far more bleak.

     The sacred is the sad.  The believers are the mad.  No one breaks this pattern of insanity and I keep waiting.  I stay waiting.

     When will the tide stay down and when will the gods become the damned?  No one thinks the thoughts that will free them from insanity but are more than willing to tell you that you are imprisoned in the chains of repression.

     Stay free.

     Think thoughts that invoke the impassioned to fight.

     Never stop to imagine the sad, the stuck or the broken.

     When will we be free?

     Never.

-The Butcher

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