And we were told they did, and all that we did, mattered.
With a missing needle from the compass of morality, smelted down into a processor.
And it’s all about the speed of their negative, into your positive.
Who am I launching the boat for, as I drive nail after nail into the keel?
And the lights that glare, and with the noise I make,
Which resonates across the horizon, No-one looks up.
And if they do, it’s a cursory glance, with fleeting care, which evaporates upon creation.
Those needles, millions now missing, fashioned to react to a tap and a swipe,
And the guilt I feel is immeasurable, as I expose my blood, my dna, my privacy.
Open to such toxicity and radiated hate, and yet with expert seamanship,
And these teens, through walls of waves, navigate these waters.
With the precision of Horatio, and the nonchalance of a sloth,
And naïve of the horrors being dreamt up, in the ivory towers of every city.
Places where we consumed in the comfort of the revered that guided us, without question.
And our teens at base camp, panning for gold, searching for truth with no friction.
Akin to searching for that cardamom seed, in a ton of rice, blindfolded with a broken chopstick!
And in reality the world was always a swamp, from trenches to the son of sam.
Yet our lives are easier, with peace, with goals, with hope,
and the challenges are there within a thousand mediums.
Set to convince me that I am not satisfied and my life is not as half as good as it should be.
And my potential is empty, and I’m meant to be depressed, and yet the biggest depression is in my pillow.
As I sleep like a buried winter bear, a recurring theme in every dream,
And how can I change the world, why won’t they listen,
I thought they all cared?
Copyright PedroBatpoet 2021
Pedro Batpoet 