Poetry - Protest song: "Poor Hereditary Syndrome"

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I see dead people

Around me they sleepwalk

They all seem so lively

Inside a ticking clock

Waiting for tomorrow

The weekend to stock up

On some anxious laughter

The few moments they bought

Then return to the cycle

In which they got stuck

Money disciples

Souls turned off

Eyes crying for the shadow

Of dreams left to rot

As the light that they followed

Didn't find any luck

I don't mean to be callous

I just wish I could stop

Because I'm rapidly aging

Into something I'm not

And I pray for my mother

Who forgot how to love

Herself even others

As her faith got struck

Some may say why bother

Complaining when there is not

A cure to less suffer

I accept life is chaos

But I can't my pain color

I feel something is lost

That it could be so much better

If we adored less to drug

Our perceptions away

From our own selfish thoughts

If we became the order

We demand others to have

And saw life less a race

More a beautiful plot

To uncover with grace

Until our hearts do pause

I wish we knew better to care

For what makes us human

And didn't throw lives away

For a repackaged fraud

In fear we aimlessly sway

Clowns elect and applaud

Let them our future spend

To feed their bloodlust

Is not just that I dissent

Or I only see the flaws

There is too much restrain

In the plans we draw

Too many things that detain

Our minds from natural law

Told relatively all is the same

Yet the truth can't be stopped

It always finds a way

To break out of the box

In which the evil who reign

Hide it so they can rob

And keep us entertained

Overfed robots

Terrified of dying

Taking every shortcut

Broken but still buying

Things to paint and cover the cracks

Honesty mocking and denying

Claiming our honor intact

Yes I am identifying

With all of this selfish talk

But I am also the false kings notifying

I am no longer their mascot

I am not afraid of their spying

Won't subscribe to idealistic smut

Myself I am edifying

Not putting up another act

In them not relying

Won't let them my morals distract

Their poison well it is drying

Like every one before that

The many hands unifying

Against all the blind odds

We see

We are purifying

Reclaiming our hope back

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