As my words cut like a saw blade,
Stanzas exist merely to corral
My words into short,
Straight lines.
Figuratively speaking,
And interestingly enough,
My life is a joke - as I progress into
A fascistic existence.
This life is still
Not what I asked for -
I never asked for death,
I asked for paradise.
Only the future tells me what's there,
As I realize overtime -
We're going to sleepwalk
Right into a plutocratic dictatorship.
Still, yet, we wish to deny it all -
"Vote harder!!!" They all cry -
"You're at fault if you vote third party!!"
I wish I could shut them all up,
As what I see is harrowing.
The ruling class wishes
To enslave all of us
For poverty wages,
Shove us all into boxes.
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