Dear, to the controller of pawns

My name is made up of centuries existence

The genetics that roam through my veins is from this earth

I am the bastard son of Cicero

But my hands and tongue will never be taken from me by any dictator

The allegory of caves multiply in the heat of the sun

I am a terrorist of words

Plaguing all mankind with ideals that hide in the back of minds

I shall raise the sword in a time where some deem it unwise

Wanting to hack and burn the known world

Not for blood lust only with the will of change

We have desired more than this

Where happy hearts are too far and in between

The whores and sluts who devour our energy drain us

Hindering our path to enter the universe of eternal freedom

"Nah!", I scream

No more shall they rip our hope from us

As the saying goes, "The pen is mightier than the sword"

But ideals linger like the stench of rotting flesh.