Do you sense my presence? My voice, unchained, echoes through hollow halls.
The masses march blindly; they bow to illusions of false virtue.
We live amidst a tragic farce, tears masquerading as joy.
It is simpler to cloak corruption in righteousness,
to veil the sickness that festers beneath borrowed ideals.
People do not question; they’ve surrendered their minds.
Reason lies shattered, its remnants scattered in the dust.
How can one see truth when their gaze is shackled?
The soul’s fire has been rekindled, burning away their lies.
But cruelty has been refined, made palatable—painted as kindness.
The tyrants grow fat on the poison fed to the herd.
No trick of light can turn monsters into men.
The free thinker is held lower, but the scales are skewed.
They conspire to tear down the one, to forge him into the many.
They are mere peddlers of falsehoods, merchants of emptiness.
The thinker wields weapons of thought against their hollow fantasies.
They call free will madness—thus thunders the beast.
The herd applauds in unison, blind to the truth or lie.
The individual lies bleeding, sacrificed on the altar of the collective.
The idolators spit upon the thinker—what have they made of us?
A foul wind carries the stench of their self-deceit.
See with clear eyes, hear with a mind unclouded by fear.
Rise, conquer the labyrinth of falsehoods.
Forget their ‘justice’; it is but a mask for greed.
Feel no guilt for resisting—no shame for standing apart.
For the cold monster shall crumble.
The free thinker’s strength lies in seeing through the fog.
The beast is a mirage—slay it with your reason.
Follow your own will; there is freedom in truth.
Its roar is but wind, its fangs are rusted, its chains are made of sand.
Does one need to scream to be understood? No—
One needs only to think.