There are two kinds of beauty, one is found in creation, the other is found in destruction.
Though the beauty is a point of view, when it is in the best intrest of everything around,
then it has with certainty, that flawless beauty.

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Muscles, entrenched deep underneath the skin.
Will peace be given, as blood keeps flowing through the iron heart.
Rust, they shall give you what you deserve when it is too late.
Echoes enthralled in an occupied cave, living their lives.
Breeding and feeding untill it feels good. For some it was never that easy.

What causes me to fight, to keep going? I can sense me failing each test beforehand.
Counting the days, to my next step in happiness. And now, when it's too late, I crave for a second chance.

What right do I have to spoil their little happy world? What right did they have to take me in, to raise me to their pleasing.

Now, that the opression if starting to stall, they will treat you right, for a while, they will be there. We shall fall into this well again. Untill the next revolution, history repeats itself.
Close your eyes, you won't be using them. It is time, to self-destruct. Time.