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brook-ilgesPoems
We stand before them gray and numb wake up All eyes vacant, fingers lax wake up Waiting patiently, thoughts sterile, for meal time wake up On the menu today is fascism wake up But we've been fed that so many times before it is considered comfort food wake up All of our threadbare clothes are dull, without variety wake up The food sits soggy and weighted in our ravenous gut wake up Clawing at the cage of our hearts to do something wake up To be something WAKE UP Yet still we toil in our once free soil WAKE UP The feel of dirt under our nails the only connection to the earth we have left WAKE UP
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Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
This IsNot A Dream
We stand before them gray and numb wake up All eyes vacant, fingers lax wake up Waiting patiently, thoughts sterile, for meal time wake up On the menu today is fascism wake up But we've been fed that so many times before it is considered comfort food wake up All of our threadbare clothes are dull, without variety wake up The food sits soggy and weighted in our ravenous gut wake up Clawing at the cage of our hearts to do something wake up To be something WAKE UP Yet still we toil in our once free soil WAKE UP The feel of dirt under our nails the only connection to the earth we have left WAKE UP
brook-ilges
Written by
brook-ilges
American
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
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