Wake up and smell the carbon monoxide

Introduction with Prose

Poetry breeds from the anarchist, and the anarchist derives from the authority.

I️, built under pressure, have formed into a revolutionary,

full of thought, I crafted words as weapons to wield towards my ever closer destiny.

I️ am the poet, I️ am the artist, I️ am the dreamer of dreams and the catalyst of my own self-destruction.

I️ am the leader in to my own self reflection. I️ am the boy who woke up in the dead of night and smelled the sulfur in the air and awoke the innards of my mind.

I am the scared child who ran outside of the status quo when the alarm blared, gaining air in my lungs as I escaped suffocation.

I️ smelled the carbon monoxide.