I've met that point in my life. Want came to need.

Burn

these fields of corn, that surround. My harvest

gone at the price of

maturity. But these remains

I've left to rot will be resurrected again and

again

by the next generation of children who want to change

minds with the

stain on hand. But, it's deeper than

this, I'm not the only one who sees, it

lies in

diversity; acceptance to a degree, only to a degree.

The fire that

once occupied my eyes has spread to

destroy this world I have grown. You have

nothing

new to scream beyond your fields and not a second of

patience to

learn from me the same. This time I

harvest the crops of my past. As far as

the demigods

are concerned, I've sold myself out just the same.

I've burned

bridges to feign brothers. Brothers of

nothing more than a simple label. So

now, I'm in

control after all, for myself I prove I still am. But

within these fields, they'll say I never was.