Faces of The Masses

We're cool.

Our creations, destined to rule.

 

Our hope destroyed by your disingenuous tales, 

You make us out to be lazy

And when we chant you call us crazy 

We beat our drums and barbaric we become

While you who lived in caves

Well that's the mark of humandom. 

 

Now, a few thousand years later,

We remain cool.

Now our coolness the source of your food

Yet still not cool enough to be in your daughter's school,

Not cool enough to eat of what we 

willingly, yet unknowingly, provided for you.

Yet still we stand on billboards and pose for magazines, all of which profit you. Making us fools. But hey we're cool.

 

We sag, and your kids do too

Except for them it's a cute teen phase 

While for us it signifies criminality is our rave 

We spit bars for you to dab 

Making fun of what's ours labeling it as a fad

You rule, we're schooled.

Until the day comes, when the jokes on you.

This poem is about: 
My community
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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