We Will Arise From The Bunkers

A day will come when every slur's been said,
And hope can sprout from a crack in the street, 
When every cell of every lie is dead,
And gloom walks away on newly-grown feet.
When night no longer means pains so discreet,
Followed by mornings of feigned kind litheness
Discarding harshness for living in sweet
And blueprinted, trans-imagined blitheness,
I'll jilt the ash of smothering bias,
And hail the lark, shaking the dust from me,
I'll confront and condemn every Pius,
Until those cloaked by sable perjury,
Find themselves cleansed and unmistakably,
characterized by fresh souls– they'll be free.

The End

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