As you come around the corner
Guns drawn, playing God for the
Men with children who may or
May not become bastards for your
Right to feel secure, you find
The courage to hold steady and pure.
For what honor is there in the blind
Cock fight, the animal scrapping
And pulling out pride, feather by feather?
Strength has worn down and withered away
In the guise of protection and selfish ambition,
To outlast all other species of bird.
So bring your shame to the ignorant circle,
And pray for the pitiful, heartbreaking past.
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