We cast no shadow;nThe stars do not shine here.nBe content to light your own path.nAnd burn what you have crossed-nThe bridges were frail,nThe people, pretended.nn-nnStorm forth with the light of the inflamed.nReclaim and ignite the sky.nBrightly to blindnRip off the veneers enabling opportunists to thrive.nDam the rise of grime and rats.nnMore sickening than a social circle that believes itself charmed.nAre the writhing droves of blow hards and yes mennClamoring to slither in.nStay sovereign on the outside.nnWe are who finish last, the unaffected,nContrasting the wide and white.nWe are who finish last-sound, indignant;nThe iron to gleaming teeth,nThe salt on saccharin.nWe who finish last,nProudly in their darkness,nLit from withinnn-nnGlad hands grabbing for brass rings,nPainting their brinks gold.nKeen sycophants fitly scheming-nFurthering the feuds of their adored.nThey have picked their enemies impeccably.nVery keen indeed.nnAnd so siege the scorned...nnWe are naught but beds of thorns and dark horses,nUnwelcome guests who will just not mind their place-nA single musket ball to pierce and lodge insidenand lead the circle to crack.nnWe cast no shadow;nThe stars do not shine here.nNo genuine light to be found.nOnly rays of cold, synthetic beams on a mock aristocracy,nSo the vain and insecure can feel revered and cared fornFor a cheap, fleeting moment.nTruly noble.nn-nnStorm forth with the light.nWe who finish last;nProudly in our darkness,nLit from within.nnConflict in the chest,nTo be concerned for the needs of such heartless men.