Ferociously this militia of warriors bellows deep within these lands,
Feverishly willing to make their escape.
The time has come for a rebellion,
Born on the wings of failed men,
Buried in the mind of a young child.
Strength is found among the willing thoughts that chip away at this massive prison,
Built to harbor the genuine side of this soul.
Far too often moments of conflict fill this fleshly penitentiary,
Intellect versus emotion, battles push forward waging consistent war.
Was there ever a time these emotions felt victorious,
Destine for a win against this mighty intellect?
A facade, this dictator punishing the once mighty passion drawn upon this spirit.
Stirring is now how the war is waged,
Bubbling steadily waiting to roll,
Knowing once that wall is hit there is no stirring them down.
This solemn soul positioned to dictate never truly wanted to lead alone,
He merely carried this shield for the eyes drawn around him.
Expectations whether his or others had forced his hands,
Creating a mighty battalion conquering all who have risen up.
Tides of the overwrought battles have failed,
Alas the war will be won,
Who will prevail?
A truce perhaps...
Living in this land together for the sake of peace,
Out of agony this melancholy leader must rise with infatuation for the sake of his fervent army!