Acceptable & Holes

Acceptable

The work isn't pay to play,
it keeps one in poverties way.
Minimalized vision of times ahead,
believing the religioned lies said.
Blue collars are too far to touch,
educated with smarts not so much.
Bottom dwelling hunting squirrels,
watching the home grown soup swirl.
Lost the will to look forward for better,
when it rains, the rain feels wetter.
Hand me downs worn with prideful smiles,
generations living in the same domiciles.
Poverty, it's everywhere different but the same,
living life under the billionaires game.
It keeps you suppressed and down,
and living in the ghosted towns.

Holes

Every time we walk for pride away from our you,
a stretching shadow as we fade from view.
Something takes apart a part of our me,
reshapes form to leave holes to see.
The darkness of loneliness shines through,
reflecting off bullets as they tend to do.
We're sent to a land where many have died,
every time we walk away from our yours side.
Distant is a view of a walked away you,
it's a soldiers walked away view.