The Odds Were Never In Your Favor Poem by James McLain

Does a prune make good wine without grape's?
Though I watch you drink it,
knowing you had a chance at the game you lost.
Historically the story of history,
must be repeated it can never by those like you changed.
The illusions of rights take back from you,
given back again, you never had.
Fear more fear, murder more murdered without hope they realized,
people whom chose to not think instead are their prize.
I look at her, she is smart, she looks at me I am not.
My mamma bred dogs, breed up never down.
Reinventting the wheel over and over again.
Opposition from you they have planed,
your end from the beginning in strife you are kept.
And it works for a can of soup you will learn to kill,
or in the end eat one another and stay warm by burning books
you could not teach your children to read.
What you never do can hurt everyone, everyone they hurt is you.
If by they any truth in this you could read I'd be killed.
In this you find no good use so I am safe like yourselves.
Being blind you can't see,
and your dreams are but shadows of those who have gone before.