how does it feel
with your trigger-finger
aching, spine shaking
from the impact of
nine millimeters
leaving barrel
at your will?

You're the man now
it's your world
your revolution
your response.

So how does it feel
now that you have
taken what is yours
and what was theirs?

You turned the table,
yes you did,
served them well,
shoved their
hateful words
down their lying,
dying throats.

What they all deserved,
what they all had coming.

So how does it feel,

to squeeze cold steel,
to feel that jolt,
and smear the brain
of your brother's bane,
that unforgiving, uncaring nemesis,
over perfect white marble tiles,
bought with sweat and hunger?

Your sweat,
your hunger.

how does it feel?

The blood on their hands
became the blood on yours,
their whip, your weapon,
their hurt, your hate.

So now you strike,
kick the beaten,
now you hurt
now you shoot,
spit, whip,

...and the blood
of the oppressor
flows as red
as the tears
of the oppressed.

So tell me,

how does it feel
to destroy one demon,

and become another?

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