A tap dance, on the borderline of the inevitable,
Hoping for a new kind of mutation to break the spell,
Speaking in a foreign tongue with controversial thoughts,
Maybe if I give in to the free fall, the pattern will fall as well.

The world is cursed with a slumber that drinks their souls,
And eats at their instincts of right and wrong,
Apparitions clutching customs they've made in the dead of night,
Oh but it's bright morning in their native tongues.

Clinking glasses with liquids more volatile than their brains,
I'm at the same table trying to dodge their dripping DNA,
Nodding my head when they say sanity is south of dreaming,
And agreeing to make an appointment with the future on Monday.

Somehow I'm in pause, tripping into a glitch in time,
Where am I? Staring at a tailored form of acceptance,
It's ice cold, stale colors, mildly pleasant curt nods,
I gasp for blackness, just anything with which I can make sense.

Maybe if I stare so hard at the ceiling I could see the sky,
And if I daydream too much I could hold the upper hand,
I close my eyes, I leave the railing, and I do give in,
But too early they're open again,
and things are no longer under my command.

Do you solemnly swear or affirm that you will faithfully execute your role as a citizen in this democracy, and will to the best of your ability, preserve, protect and defend the constitution of the United States?

Do you expect your president to? Your congress?

You don't have to believe in politics because even if you don't
they will still exist.
They will still make decisions that effect your livelihood.
You could move away, sure, but if you lived here long enough,
you're an American.
And wherever you go, they will see you as your country.
They'll hear it when you speak.
You could refuse to preach for a country you're not proud of,
that's fine.
But the grumblings often heard from these masses, the complaints,
the horrified hushed whispers and the disdain,
those shouldn't be uttered either.
Those masses were the students in school who never received awards for participation,
they're embarrassed by their government but have never stepped foot in a polling booth, better yet, never even registered to vote.
I know, because I was one of them.
We know the arguments.
We all fear that our vote wont matter.
I'm part of a generation where it seems that
giving a **** isn't cool anyway.
Dank memes are meant to be liked and not followed up on.
Armchairs are in every home and those who sit in it keep it warm.
But there's more on our heads, guys.
And even more in our hands.
They can blame us left and right for the indifference we practice,
but we'll only justify it in our silence.
Give a ****.
Give two.
Sitting around in echo chambers
only results in deafening noise.
And you can't run away if you can't hear them coming.
And the voices, they sometimes make me sick to my stomach.
but I'm stronger than fear mongered puke.
And though it's "cooler" to bask in your sickness amongst my peers,
It doesn't move anything.
I don't need to know or be a minority personally to know that they're being hunted.
To believe their stories, that have been proven countless times anyway.
And I strongly believe that neither does anyone else.
Bystanding up to the man will result in blame games.
Do something. Even if it's not much.
There's promise out there.
You just have to make an oath to find it.