Mariposa's Daughters

Maybe the homeless tempest is lost in the sea;

But wont it shed shackles and rather be free.

Maybe the mighty torches imprison blazing light;

But O' tell me how, can I let go, without a fight.

Maybe night's bride sings solitary verses under naked trees;

But, your purgatory her paradise, your thunder her breeze.

Maybe our wings are slayed and slaughtered;

But won't it be lovely to play Mariposa's daughters.

They say we're architects of anarchy, seducers of sin;

But don't we have battles to lose, wars to win

They say our footsteps pave way to purgatory gates;

But, hail us for we are martyrs of cognitive fate.

Maybe the captor can't contain our footprints within;

But aren't you my saint, ain't I your sin.