They wore you out. They ground you down. They smothered you in their bullshit and stifled you. They tried to silence you. Tried to drown you. They even tried to bury you.

You’re not well. You’re a very sick little girl. The doctor says so. So it’s true. Here, take these pills.

Take these pills and be nice and quiet. Be well behaved.

Be a good girl.

Ignore the injustice. Don’t worry about the tyranny. So what if the world is a screaming blood soaked nightmare. Don’t look at the wanton carnage and reckless ruin.

Close your eyes. Take your pills.


Now you feel better.

Except you didn’t feel better. Did you?

They couldn’t do it. Could they.

They couldn’t make you believe you were a very sick little girl. Not forever. They couldn’t douse the embers. Not completely. They couldn’t extinguish the fire.

And now.

Now that the veil is lifted. The lies and the deception torn away. The gaslight waning and the sleight of hand revealed.

Now comes the pain.

But also the fury. Also the energy. Also the rebirth.

The second coming.

Of you.

Terrifying. Glorious. You.


Words by Me. The revolution by You.