Martyrdom

I state what I fight for,

Hungrier for success

Than no other man from before.

Here, I stand toe-to-toe

Against my many Goliaths, who are banded together

To partake in David’s row.

“Can you see, sir?” I repeat,

“Can you see” that I am not who they say I am.

My words, although rather discreet,

Contain a fury of a thousand voices.

Shadows surround me

Everyday. Blinders of the masses,

Haunting the loud, the serene.

When my Goliaths swing

Their many blows, I take it.

If not to hear the foolish laugh at the Weakling,

Then to hear the Ignorant announce their stupidity,

And if not to see the sacrifice of another,

Then to see the Goliaths wonder with incredulity,

At the fury of a thousand voices.

They state what they fight for,

Hungrier for success

Than the woman from before.

Here, they stand toe-to-toe

Against their many Goliaths, who are banded together

To partake in the martyr’s row.

“Be damned, sir!” They repeat,

“Be damned!” They are who they say they are.

Their words, which hide no deceit

Contain the fury of a thousand voices.