Blinded Mindless Poem by Sarah Jane Black

WE think.
We are not mindless,
Yet somehow we sneak into the pretense
That we are.

It’s how They view us—
Nothing can help the pre-paid perception.

We move side to side—
A snake streaking through the burnt sand of the Hot Lands

As time shakes, and our minds quiet into the hum
That They have set for us...
We realize that We want to be free.
With each swipe of imprisonment,
This idea becomes clearer.

Yet we continue...
As the days go by We wonder why we do what we do
We don’t view our lives as a misfortunate deed placed upon Us
Though We do question at times how to handle this.
We’ve decided that it’s too fragile and beyond us for questioning
We know why the caged bird sings.