So they tell me
They tell me that I have a place,
It’s set out just for me.
But I do not like the place I’m set,
I do not want to walk that path,
To talk that speech,
Or strain my brain to forget.
Around me they have created rules
Set parameters
To control us fools,
And we are expected to play the game
Within the bounds
That keep it the same.
The real players are the Kings and Queens,
Robbers and callous thugs.
We as pawns are merely
Tiresome bugs.
They use us like they use
A bothersome, worthless tool.
We exist as a means to an end
Worth no more than a shrug
Or nothing at all.
Within this game we have to make the grade
Cut off from the natural way,
As a cog within the machine
I turn to create wealth
And take my pay.
I’m bought and sold
Used and discarded
Bled dry, controlled
And disregarded.
There’s no way out.
We’re in the game,
Caught in the web.
The more we struggle
The tighter the knots –
One more trapped pleb.
It is self-perpetuating
Designed to build our own cage.
Any rebellion causes mirth
As they incorporate our rage.
Opher 2.9.2015