Bodies replicating displacement, twisted growths Streaming up walls that separate and segregate The once spacious and spontaneous.
Brimming past allotted space, Gridlocked in a postmodern wasteland Deprived of wonder, no ability to wander.
Stretching, aching to escape the odds, The masses stacked against each other, wrapped in suffocating saran.
Plastic and detached We clamor for peace As they bury the hatchet Separating bone and flesh De-spining our fragile backs In an effort to preserve class.
They tie us up on strings For an elaborate show, Distractions make us feel we’re in control. Puppets and human beings Become indistinguishable.
A pre-allocated placement only masked by possession. This land of the free is weighted towards the monetary security of them, Never us.
So will we, modern day slaves of the service industry placidly toil to please their every need?
No, indeed The chosen few will turn back, Ready to be trampled by the stampede of society.
Itching within, beneath skin and muscles through blood vessels and malleable marrow, All vibrating in frustration and we will exclaim with little more owned than our given names,
We are no longer willing to play survivor, fighting against our neighbor To climb this invisible ladder.
We’re digging through the *******, elbow deep and dredging up with two clenched fists The forgotten sediment of rebellion.