Take the knife and slowly, steadily steer the blade into my neck
swiftly scalping my scarred skull peeling the bloodied flesh apart ripping veins and sinew,
fingers pressed on bone, cracking open the canister that contains thoughts of freedom.
Inserting oppressive veils to fragment reality and illusion,
removing my brain for inspection until it drips dry bruised by presentation
not for lack of trying, until conforming, consistently to what you expect of me,
not what I expect of me. Change has finally come.