They were the outcasts. We were the Gods.
And anointed by their spit and their hate and
their jeers we grew until we became the world
around. Their muted colors and hang-ten
shirts morphed into our leather and our
spikes. Their soothing 70’s tones were
enveloped by our noise, choked by our words.
We became the immortals and now you
worship our recklessness. Look deep you
cowardly humans, you scum, you filth—your
hate was the fuel to our fire and now we laugh
as you yearn for lives unfettered by caution,
untouched by fear. Look upon us. Look upon
those who were not afraid to be different.
Feast on our bravery. Revel in our sound.
Jack Grisham