#344 (rattling the chains)


muffled screams

riots in the streets

burning barricades

and broken glass

rattling the chains

of their oppressors

to feel alive or at least

feel anything at all

pushing away empty shells

of consumerism, burning

paper like there was no

tomorrow and who knows

if there is. Water guns

and tear gas, broken bodies

writhing on the ground,

the smell of fear rich in

the spoiled, hot air.

Quis custodiet ipsos


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