"(Rebel) {Radical} [Renegade]"

"(Rebel) {Radical} [Renegade]"


What lies under this hood
is a rebel.


That's what they call me, at least.
They call me "borderline ghastly,"
they say I'm nasty,
and claim that I do deals with the devil.
They say I'm sporadic.
They swear that I'm frantic;
but I hardly ever act out;
so I don't know why they see panic.


Maybe I am a little manic.
I'm sure to be unstable.
I'm the one that's labeled
for laying in his grave
instead of his cradle.
I misconstrue short stories
and lay ridicule to fables.
Lay me on this table
and cut me open 
if you don't think I'm able.


Tell me what you see.
Look deep inside of me
and unleash that mad man
that you always said I would be.


What lies beneath this cloak
is a radical.


I'm an avid extremist.
I'm far from placid.
My mind pushes past it's apex;
so my thoughts are never flaccid.
Average thoughts are soft serve.
Mine resemble dripping acid:
It bores through and eats away
at all who aren't willing to pass it.
Peculiar things catch my ire
when I sit here at my spire
like how flaming ice
can feel like frozen fire.


I have unorthodox daydreams.
I never question what they mean.
It would appear, or so it seems
that I recall what I haven't seen.
It makes no sense.
It holds no scheme;
but it keeps me going.
It's the post on which I lean.


Maybe I'm off my rocker.
I may appear a little improper;
but I heard insanity was free;
so I stuffed my mental locker.
Does that come as a shocker
or is it clever and bold
for me to be an open book
full of stories that may never be told?


What rests within this shroud
is a renegade.


Conductive class.
Sinister grade
of a destructive past:
Militant made.
Try to palate the contents of my glass.
Go ahead. Drink the lemonade.
Consume my elixir whole
and you'll see how quickly feelings fade.


I'm bright enough to blind;
but I bask in a darker shade.
I left the world behind;
wearing the mask that my shadows made.
I wrap myself within these garbs
that have now become standard issue.
The wiles of friendship are vile.
Don't expect me to say "I miss you."
I turned away from love that day.
I've lost the desire to kiss you.
Just stay at bay. Don't come my way
or I will surely dismiss you.


Deep inside
lies the underline:
Terms that can't be defined.
I am the new design.
You'll never see into my eyes.
We can stand face to face;
but your deducing won't recover
what has already been displaced.


I really don't care if I'm unleveled.
I only seek my sabbatical
in route to where I've often laid;


so label me a rebel.


Call me a radical.


View me as a renegade.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz