Omeed
buried up to my neck in the ground
I can feel them stones them stones them pounding down

first rock, then 100 more
crushed, beaten, bruised to my core
stones of the right shape and size

like the solidified tears in my eyes
modern day crucifixion
tell me to listen

to propaganda and fiction
divine mission
death wishin

feelin repercussions of the strength of my convictions