We Are The Few, Those Who Fight Further
Venom.
I used to spray venom.
I hated you. I hated your beliefs, your petty arguments, and your stupid feelings. You justified everything with an emotion. You rationalized the most irrational thoughts and behaviors with whatever whimsical fodder that the gray matter within your skull conjured at that moment. You annoyed me to no end.
You still exist. You work with me. You walk the streets. You walk around with a “Vote Hope” shirt or consider yourself a Born Again McCainiac. Sheep.
You are the American Voter.
You line up on television in your stiff collared shirt, sport coat, and American flag lapel. You spew a mindless ideology that does not see right or wrong, but right and left. You denigrate the “other side” whenever they have a good idea based simply on the letter next to their name.
You put bumper stickers on your car so everyone can see the brand upon your back…
“Hillary ‘08.”
“Change You Can Believe In.”
“100 more YEARS!”
I have lost my will to fight the tide. Take me now, in a wave of your stupidity, inundate and inculcate me with contempt and shortsightedness. I am ready. Arms spread and eyes squeezed tight. Wisp me away to a world of black and white, of simple bigotries…
Just promise to make it quick.
But the tide will never come, will it? And my venom will no longer afflict you. I have transcended you.
Because I am one of the few. I see the media for what it is…paid military “analysts” and liberal blow-hards spewing ideology and recycling sound bytes until my eyes and ears bleed from repeated assault on my intellect. I see you for who you are, an animal of man scraping by on whatever your barely sentient brain happens to absorb.
There are many of us. Out there. Spread amongst the rank and file cattle. We look like you, but within the silence of our thoughts we plot and plan. Should the revolution begin, we will be wearing masks of anonymity and throwing molotov cocktails at the stormtroopers. We will paint the walls of our cities in propaganda. We will stand together against the evils of men; men themselves. And should it come crashing down, should all hope vanish, we will fight further.
Until we either stamp out the great beast and its flock of sheep-skinned men, or until every last one of us is revealed to the world, as the Machine rips our veils off and the warmth of light graces the faces of the few.
We are the few, those who fight further.
Yes, the venom has been saved. But the hate lingers on. Fire the first shot, give me a sign, and we will show the world the meaning of liberty…
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