A Culture of Vultures

We live in a culture of vultures

We don’t even have time to breathe

We are only supposed to succeed and conceive

Because what else are we supposed to believe?


Be sad and mad sure

But keep it under control

In the favor of the rest of society


I am sick of the propriety

Held over my head

You can do whatever you want

Because I am already dead


Funny thing is blood is pumping through my heart

As I go down the aisles of Wal-Mart

Barely anyone had a head start

We don’t need to see a flow chart

To know that we are worlds apart


So attached to your phone

I can loan you a car

But I cannot loan you a life

I can tell you’re the type

That is not very nice

When I talk to you I skate on thin ice


But what does that say about me?

Being in the land of the free is not the key

I scream as loud as I can but the decibels have no impact

In fact I’m on a high-wire act


This is my life.

In a culture of vultures.

I get mad and sad.

I have to accept society has propriety.

Just cruising down the aisles of Wal-Mart.

I am the one attached to my phone.

So let's pretend being in the land of the free

is the key to our happiness.

This poem is about: 
My country


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