I want to scramble away
I want to scream
I want to shout
I want to fight back
No...
No...
I need to scramble away
I need to scream
I need to shout
I need to fight back.
Or do I?
The voices tell me not to,
Not the voices in my head,
The voices around me.

The ones that are yelling-,
And screaming-,
They are begging for help, just like me.
Some of them, even, are cannibals!
I would rather die,
Than be someone like that.
But they have no other choice...
And it’s because...

Of the people inspired by misdemeanor.
The ones that yell,
At us,
And pull on chains,
And fill the place
The “place”
With blood, sweat, and tears.

They turn us into things as weak as butterflies,
And then pull off our wings.
Butterflies without wings.
That’s what we are.
But I am the enemy,
For while they are inspired by misdemeanor,
I am,
Inspired by the torture they are giving me.