To Serve and Defect

We are the most contented slaves

Working for life to dig our graves

We speak in whispers down below

Of all the places we never go

We take our orders with a pill

Break our bones snap our will

Gristle days and restless sleeps

On our wall a calendar weeps

We are thorns without a crown

In a kingdom that keeps us down

Yet we cheer for all things regal

For to oppose would be illegal

We are for others to manipulate

It is our place it is our trait

To pay our bills and keep the fear

For two weeks sun once a year

The plan is working to a treat

Millions controlled by a tiny elite

We are mocked by crooked banks

Yet tip our hats and say thanks

We are the most contented slaves

Toiling for the day when Jesus saves

Dying early with an unclenched fist

There is no justice if god exists

This earth is poisoned by the few

Who like to tell us what to do

We go to war they watch us bleed

And laugh as we supplant their greed

We believed what we were told

That hard work will see us old

Wisdom grieves a life so spurned

We observed but never learned

©JMcN