I step into your homes through doors that aren't seen.
Taking forms and faces you would never think of.
I'm a whisper, a rumour.
I'm waiting for my time to come as yours is already over.
You can't catch me.
You can't lock me down.
Quiet and patient.
I'll slip through your fingers and strike.
And then, when you throat starts to dry,
When your knees won't carry your weight,
When your lungs start to fail,
You will finally understand.
I'm not an army. I'm not a man. I'm a creed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠙⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡶⠛⠁
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠈⠳⠀⠀⣀⣴⡾⠛⠁⣠⠂⢠⠇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⣀⠤⢤⡶⠟⠁⢀⣴⣟⠀⠀⣾
⠀⠀⠀⠠⠞⠉⢁⠀⠉⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣏⠀⢠⡇
⠀⠀⡰⠋⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⠿⠏⠁⠀⣸⠁
⠀⠀⣄⠀⠀⠏⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠾⢯⣀
⠀⠀⣻⠃⠀⣰⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢤⣀⡀⠀⠺⣿⡟⠛⠁
⠀⡠⠋⡤⠠⠋⠀⠀⢀⠐⠁⠀⠈⣙⢯⡃⠀⢈⡻⣦
⢰⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢯⡄⠀⢻⣿⣷
⠀⠉⠲⣶⣶⢾⣉⣐⡚⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⡎⣿⣿⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⢠⣿⣴⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣧
⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⢠⠟⣿⠏⢀⣾⠟⢸⣿⡇
⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠘⠁⢠⠜⢉⣐⡥⠞⠋⢁⣴⣿⣿⠃
⠀⠀⣾⢻⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⡀⢀⡄⠁⠀⠀⢠⡾⠁⢠⣾⣿⠃
⠀⠀⠃⢸⣿⡇⠀⢠⣾⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⡞
⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡇⡰⠋⠈⠙⠂⠙⠢
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧