Generic Oppression Poem

Oppressed by you, your state, your religion So you think you good, kind and Superior But I find you cruel, arrogant and callous But that is just in my view, what do I know? You control the language that describes pain But there is no for me in its grid, or how I feel My soul is ripped from my body and bound, On to your machines on which I slave and toil. You say it has to be this way, no room for doubt Master and slave, it is only a matter of degrees But it is my kind that is always tied to the rack While you sip vintage wine in the lap of luxury. Everything has its time and its place, yours is over End is near, for you and everything you hold dear Everything carries with it the root of its own destruction And I will rejoice now that your has very nearly come.