Trapped Truth

The quest for my truth feels forbidden.

Like it was thrown away.

Left in a cage.

It was denied.

No one to pay more than minimum wage.

Behind closed doors, I swore I would never be some whore.

My bank account says I’m poor.

I don’t want to sleep on the floor.

So I sweep when presented a feast.

Sucking at the minerals like a savage.

I manage I smile although I’m ravaged.

I’m a peasant.

I don’t live in the present.

I thirst for tomorrow.

Not moral honor in my repressed sorrow.

If life continues to bring remiss, do I have to constantly feign bliss?

If the cycle is unending, will my sanity be transcending?

Longer then my reach, this existence has mutated into a leech.

Systematic in greed.

What I perceive in mostly reprieve.

Structured to cause the masses to struggle.

Weighted down without an escape latch or shuttle.

Crabs in a barrel.

Hidden by controlled governmental tricks.

I’m screaming in agony.

I don’t want to lose my wits.

Even though it’s bound to split.

Toss and turn.

My raggedy patience burns.

Leaving my silenced logic.

I stay trapped in the Beast’s closet.

Until someone else can solve it.

My truth stumbles in apocalyptic boots.


Originally published at 12BY6.

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