they keep you busy with little things,
one foot in front of the other, always.
the walls aren't high, just thick enough.
you don't need chains when there's comfort.
give them a paycheck, and they'll stay,
distract them with the news, and it works.
you don't tell a fish about the water,
or a man about the cage he's in.
you give him a job, a chair, a window,
let him see the sky but never touch it.
he won't even try to climb the walls,
if he thinks the floor is all there is.
a warm bed, a bottle, some food,
all it takes to keep him believing,
that he's got it good, he's got it all,
and doesn't need to run.
-
Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: October 14th, 2024 10:29
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 40
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Alan R, NinjaGirl
Offline)
Comments2
That's marketing for you. Plenty of that now days
Live in the comfort of lies or fight for the satisfaction of truth?
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