Them

Higher. Higher. Higher.

Reaching

Striving

Being Free

But What is free?

 

I don't see, Can't see, Can't breath

Blue turns to grey, some and fog turns my  way

I rest my head to lay but fall.

Fall so hard, Fall so Quick- my wings slip

I Don't know what's next.

I Can't rest.

Was forced out of my nest, told to be the best-

But what is the best if I can't fly?

Because They damaged the sky.

They. Damaged. The. Sky.

 

With their twisted lies, and lustful eyes They damaged the sky.

They burned the ground- grounded the drifters and imagineers.

They ruined the practice of volunteer

They Forced the selfish need within- Within us all they manipulated.

Contemplated the very idea of renovation with their expectation of revelation.

Because They forced segregation within our eyes and hearts- Hearts Break.

Gone because of Forced fate.

 

Told who you're going to be- Before you even see- Before you even know- Before you even fall-

Before they chain you down.

Because They turned around and blocked you. They locked you.

"Boo hoo"- "Take it and make it"

Because All you are is Them.

And All You'll ever be is Them.

 

Everything is wrong unless it's right, but What if I chose to fight?

What if I want to be wrong?

But what is wrong?

Wrong is right?

Right?- Wrong.

Because titles are only there to limit the imagination- there to end all creation

and limitation leads to fragments of Conservation and that my friend is the process of manipulation.

 

Tired. Tired. Tired.

Mentally trapped- exhausted.

Resuscitation at it's finest is rising and stirring the youth.

But the youth is blinded and toyed with and fucked with and broken.

United and Divided all in one. Who won?

You won? They won? no one understands the meaning of wholesome.

Wholesome is lonesome.

If you don't become numb- you'll become the bum.

Force to follow the chain of social hierarchy and left at the bottom because of Their Tyrantsy.

 

And then Tired.Tired.Tired again.

It's the cycle of fighting with the likes of Them.

The man. The boss. The process of "Them."

But who is "Them?" - In the end?

You're left with unanswered questions....

Because We will never know them.

The elite in charge of your entire life.

Your. Entire. Life.

 

They hold the knife, the weapon in charge of forcing you to play the game of fame.

They force you to stay in line- "one at a time."

Don't be a mess. Believe me they'll check- Check your thoughts like it's "1984"

They'll Force you on the floor- "Hands free please!" "Watch it!"

Big Brother is watching- Stop it!

With that weird thing called thinking because individuality is creeping.

And that my friend leads to weeping.

Life threatening- Life Altering- Life - Death.

Who even knows anymore?

Just lay your head down- Don't dig deeper than the core-

the root of all this violence.

It'll leave you

breathless.

In. Out.

In.

Out.

Silence.

 

This poem is about: 
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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