Your personal Tumblr journey starts here
There are things they don't tell you when you are a young bright rebel,
With the taste of wrath in your mouth, a rally cry in your ears, and a mission in your heart.
They didn't warn you of how blood bounces on snow when you are chomping at the bit for action against inaction.
They're stories of glory, not of sweat evaporating before it leaves your skin, never of the smell of blood in a forest cooling on the damp ground. Or the look of an empty battlefield.
But there are good things.
The satisfaction of a job well done, the knowledge that you're saving lives and times, like now, when one finally beheads one of the true evils.
The rush of relief in knowing that the broken bloody mass at your feet will never again cause pain like he once had and that his last moments were ones of misery, misery that you meted out as recompense for his crimes.
They send you out with a sword and a promise that your anger can be used for good and it's moments like this that make good on that promise.
Our righteous anger bubbles like lava, biting at injustice and growling at inaction.
We, the young and restless vibrantly bash against the rocks of tradition. Slowly changing the world, an inevitable tide never coming in fast enough for our liking.
We longed for change, we would burn the world and remake it in our image.
We would kill
We would bite and scratch and tear to protect what we love and seek truth and justice for all.
I walked amongst these thorns along a dangerous road, but I do not walk alone.
We stood and will stand together against conformity, relentless and strange, enigma on a cliff waiting for wings.