I was once a writer with healing words

My pen gave the world joy and laughter

With the purpose of encouraging new growth

From this path never did I once diverge

But once upon a fateful day

Warriors from a foreign land came

Not to conquer but to utterly destroy kindness

Wielding criticism’s burning red blade

They attacked without warning, slaying confidence

We had no chance against their dogmatic beliefs

That new and free thought should not exist

Except ideas including their smug self-righteousness

I watched as my comrades fell in tears or shame

My soothing words were completely useless to them

As my eyes beheld the death of what could have been

And the air stunk of so many pages aflame

The pen I once held is tainted with hatred unknown

By those self-proclaimed experts of the world

Its sharpened point rips apart the paper

Before ideals, thoughts, and even memories can be sown

So this message is for you, mine own enemy

Know this, you forced me to take up this sword

Turn me into one of you wretched inhumankind

With an infectious disease that I cannot remedy

But I will struggle with my darkness and fight

Unlike you I choose to save the potential future

The one that could shine so bright in heaven and sky

The one where you don’t exist, where there is no wrong or right