2,000 Hours

A tear for my tracks, unseen in the dark

Peace in life, for more than a night of sleep for my return

Assassinated seeds slide down the sink and to the sea

No matter how it’s said, it has to matter to me

How can it not matter to you too?

Are we not slaves? Aren’t freedoms few?

Changing our direction, without slowing down

Up as hard as we can go, then hard back to the ground

Hurry up and wait for our own tired asses

So we can prod them back into this engine of classes

A contraption we might not have chosen

If granted the freedom of choice

If when we cried, we weren’t denied

We might now have a voice

Could it be that we were right as children to resist?

Against what pits us opposing each other simply to exist?