I see the golden sunrise horizon
Over the silhouettes of the black city-scape
National symbols of our absolute
Utterly absolute freedom
I see hills owned by no one
Seas free of poison
With no one to sit in some office
Sprouting stories from their orifice
Of who's to honor for keeping it clean
We all are
Honor humanity by freeing the rats
We are weary of running your machine
Of fueling a ship that
You continuously crash upon rocks
That you drive headlong into the hurricane
Time and time again
We are worn out from climbing ladders
That are ethereal
Only to hit ceilings that leave us
Old, bloody, broken
One billion skeletons in a farcical pile
Bones to fuel the machine
And the wheels keep turning
Grinding in my brain
Or is that just my teeth?
Who can truly say whether or not
This freedom would work?
We haven't even tried
Anything would be better than
The current state of disillusion
That we find ourselves in
This watered down nationalism
Meant for a country
That no longer exists
© Copyright 2016 dubl. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Non-Fiction
Short Story / Other
Poem / Romance
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