Something inside wants to pounce.
A side none see.
I restrain it with each ounce.
But always with me.

In the darkest part,
Is where it is kept.
Of the soul and heart,
Never left just slept.

Forged in desert sun.
A panther is chained.
Under hammer and gun.
Idealism is maimed.

People who listen are few.
No qualities redeem,
For this infinite bad dream.
So that darkness grew and grew.
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Starfire our short count queen arranged this. I want to make sure any one readig this knows I did not do this alone.