We live in systematic chaos that is
peeling us away from what we need to say,
what we need to do.
It is stealing our tongues from soft-spoken mouths
and squeezing our lungs until we are hushed
amid the people too rushed
to push against it.
It is a chaos that is subtle,
a chaos that is tearing at our
huddled forms, our minds too muddled
to even consider fighting back.
But we hack and we hoist against
every other trouble in the day,
which only serves to double the pain
crashing in at night.
And with all our might we praise
a form way up in the sky, so silent
and forgetful we begin to question why.
Why do we scurry to honor this
man in the air who seems to
be in no hurry to help, to hear?
When we **** and we steal whatever
we want, this systematic chaos
just continues to taunt us down here.