One hope

I hope
my words will sting you.
A needle for the junkies
and we still live like monkies
throwing our s**t around
bound to this systematic
synthetic
gimme gimme
sacrifice.
I hear its said,
“Well, that’s just life,”
as new horrors are bred.
I hide in my bed
instead of
confronting my fears
my selfish
a struggle
against the voice
that gets more quite
through the years,
as more are not fed
more rage behind locked
prison doors
every year
the spectacle gets brighter
the entertainers
try harder
every year
the gap gets wider
and we all are still standing idle.
There will be no freedom here
for all must be free
and all must be seen as free.

Or this is all just a dream.