Mental Guns
You put a gun to my head
Made me do things I wish I've never said
You let the politicians bullet its course
Letting my insanity be the force
Pushing down my skull
Having my body roll
Twisting with agonizing pain
The loss of face and name
Conforming to the thoughts of 'us'
'We the people' do not fuss
While I am in an uproar
Ready to settle the score
Take my place in 'our' nation
Where we all face annihilation
Going against the ever so perfect law
Like rubbing salt in wounds still raw
You put a gun to our head
Making you wish we were dead
Wanting us to think a certain way
Propaganda doesn't exist you say
With your subliminal messaging
Perfection is what we won't bring
But Sir! I am only just of age
Why do i have all of this rage?
You judge me for my ability to be an individual
Leaving a feeling with no residual
Nothing left over for the people
Upon your mighty steeple
We have much more than you credit for
Power; I believe I am ready to explore...
poem by Chyna Parker
Added by Poetry Lover
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