Hands marred in mud
Sweaty face, odd old breath
And a fight that was never meant to be
Stand as if the world depends on it
Yet your knees disdain your will
And you'll kneel like you always will
Titans move inside you
Yet abysses lay around
You are found and lost, beauty and perdition
Grind your teeth
You are no captain
And the only master is the soul itself
Commander of void
Conquerer of nil
Let fatigue take over, and settle for little
You save what you can
Hands, cupola of hope
But self is water and sifts through it all
Own nothing
Be possessed
And yield under the weight of air
You are garbage
You are gold
You are formless, tenant of no mould