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Poem

It's hard to live in
A world where
People, en masse
Accept this mandated schedule... 
An indoctrinated philosophy
From birth until death
Abiding by beliefs
Of ancient times!
Tell me, where's the upheaval
The unrest for revival
A rebirth of progressive thinking.

I cry inside, biting my lips
So no one can hear my
Inner torment.

We are all unique souls
With our own respective
Blueprints, yet we
Squish and bury our
Distinctive gifts between our 
Breast bones, challenging
The beating heart with
So much passion-
To walk the beaten path...
A path already made clear by
Our ancestors boiling
Under the hot sun
Sweating and bleeding
And tortured to death
Fighting for our freedom.

I cry inside, biting my lips
So no one can hear
My inner torment.

We walk this Earth
In open air yet making 
No indentation on
Our own stretch where 
Our ancestors played their part-
Existing only in the hell of
Powerful mad men
Puffed-up in relay teams
Passing the golden baton through
Nepotism, avarice, and
Mendacity... a self-serving elite
Us, the en masse, 
Complicit in their every 
Wicked whim, we
Wallow in this
Faux complacency
Of acceptance
As if it's all good
By ticking the
Ballot box.

I cry inside, biting my lips
So no one can hear
My tortured soul.

© 2015 Denise Morgan?

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