History makes some people walk,
Tied to the past; wrapped up in chains
Their mind-forged manacles remain.
Bright white walls make some people walk,
Freshly painted every day; built of stone and hate
Too tall to climb; too strong to break
No tools provided to help with the destruction.
Art makes some people walk,
I am off to the side; I am poorly conceived
Just a message of wealth and power
But mostly I am invisible.
Words make some people walk,
Hiding in metaphors for power they constrict and apply new bonds
Posing as rebellion they lead them to exactly where they’re wanted
They provide excuses, justification, understanding and certainty
Words are power and some people have been taught newspeak,
But only some people.
Poverty makes some people walk,
They cannot afford the currency of the world or the spirit
They cannot travel to work or to their dreams; it is too far away
They cannot see; they cannot take part
They just own envy.
Why must some walk?