Into antique graffiti
You slam me;
Books filled with the company of
Enemies and falsehoods
Mold me,
And them,
And us
Into mechanized monsters,
Unable to breathe,
With disparities for
Our future
Whose roots lie in
The hands
Of businessmen
So far away
Who just don't understand
And I want
To see
The world
For all that it is
But you
Tie your nooses
Made from futile tests
And I try
So hard
To breathe
Under the weight
Of your
Endless demands
Your rules
Your plans
But still
You just
Won't see