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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required You are still locked into an endless game and that is a shame, you are still locked into a mind game and the people are going insane. The cars are still running up and down the street without music or a beat, the drivers are complaining, and they are looking for someone to blame. I really don’t like these feelings it gives me an undefined yearning; you have come to a premature end but the people keep rising up again, a tale of two cities are fuming at the corner, you have to quell the disorder. The people are confused when they listened to the evening news; fictitious names keep floating in the air with signature and initials that don’t exist and a dwelling place that is blacklisted. They drive up and down the street disrupting your heartbeat, honking their horns and looking and at you with scorn. From whence did this thing come to hold everyone captive? No money in hand or savings to procure the land. The slave trade has returned and people are mingling in the dirt and you sit in your high chair draining the life out of the city. I wish I understood the game or I would not be sitting here today, I wish I understood the game or I wouldn’t be the same. I don’t mind working for a worthy cause but when you count up the abuse and the cost. Four long years of suffering, no document signed, no contract made yet I am getting the blame for someone else’s shame. You beat me up, drain my energy and you suppress my courage when all I need is a little help to leave the lion’s den. I have been to many places and I have mingled with all races but I have never had need to defend myself in the middle of hell. You saw me sitting in the rain and you mocked my sincerity, you treat the people that worked for you with utter disrespect and contempt. You throw the loyal people under the bus that stood by you when things were rough and now, they kept you on the go. It seems as if you don’t get out much so you lack that instinct about culture, you don’t appreciate music and you hate women tennis player. You rig the games to make a point and if it is do or die the Gods of Zeus will make you pay a painful sacrifice. You associate the number three with a bad omen when you know that it is a spiritual number from heaven, it is divine and it has everything that is mine. Every time I plan to move you hold me back and make up stories to feed your own glory. Your unconscious hat makes no sense and still you have me stuck in the middle of the den. They throw rotten meat in front to the gate and bring out the plague to cover the place. You have got to get your act together so keep your mind awake the story will unfold when you have a big earth quake. Please get me out of this country, I want to breathe fresh air; I am caved it!
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