Behind the bar wire, who can teach me the etiquette?

The etiquette for being misunderstood, I wore with uneasiness.

Everything average makes me sick, beyond the reach of crowds.

What do I do?

Do to stop this voice that never ceases.

I wrestle with poetic demons.

I speak for the lost, and all those going through pain.

In the word I say, the sound of a comeback.

Testifying of your victory, a witness to your overcoming.

Because I am, I am the voice in the flame.

Inside the rage and furnace, where do I find it?

An apology, an apology, but fitting in my rebelliousness.

I fight the fist of that doubt.

How many know what it's like, like to be young, gifted and crazy?

Over the walls of resentment.

Why am I?

Why am I so hard for others to excel?

Must they slam to every corner of my existence?

Then let it be as they wish for I am the voice.

Every word, the sound of a comeback.

Testifying to your victory, a witness to your overcoming.

Because I am burning, I am the voice in the flame.

...