E Nigma

~and, I'M Sick~ - Poem by E Nigma

I'm sick of all these medicating simulations
Distracting, attractions, the more that I write it will gain traction

The factions are phony, It's all about power
The lotteries staged with poorly paid actors
The hour is set and so are the limits
The house always wins or your paid a visit

What is the goal?

To enslave the minds
The vices a crutch, to a crippled mankind

The churches live under a tax free order
One% could pay down an ever increasing debt
Ten% could clothe and feed all the homeless

But nobodies watching the money laundering schemes
Under the guise of a savior that needs your money

Millions spend millions entertained by disaster
Bodies entranced, by the music, their master
Dancing to drink and drink to forget
The poor choices made to a smooth talking vet

The bastardized lesson, the rich cheating husband
Stares like a junkie into the T.V
Blames it on the sexuality in pornography

The unfaithful wife that was touched by her father
The thief that was born to starve like his brothers

The rapists rejection by a mothers love broken
The victim infected, with lost hope for a husband

Invitations to a sick world to be followed on twitter
Vicarious followers all stalkers in disguise

Old men start wars for the young men that fight them
The corporations that profit and the rich dinners given

Murder or death, with a free pass for either
Soldiers sent home to a world that is neither full nor empty
No love, no jobs, no life, but tempting, what choice?
The memory kills and suicides the burden relieved
From the darkened eyes where no more light resides

It's about time the artist draws this curtain.

Its been said Cain killed Abel with no worldly influence
Humans, the problem, mankind, the sickness

It's been wiped clean in times past
With a few left to populate and so it's asked
Why, once again, does mankind live to destroy and desecrate
That which they do not create?

Hope is infectious, A fleeting illusion
Every time we start again
We evolve into less human

It's like Harvey once said you either die a hero
Or live long enough to watch yourself become a villain
Sadly but truly his spoken vision

So the doctor says cut away all the diseased parts
Leave all the rest, but when all is infected beyond cure
What choice do we have left, What choice do we have left?

Topic(s) of this poem: thinking

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, March 7, 2015

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