Theorem The Truth Serum

Rookie - 245 Points (1979-present / San Leandro)

Nails - Poem by Theorem The Truth Serum

I feel like the world is a house.
A house built of wood that
is fastened together by nails.
The wood is the intricate pieces
that need to be shouldered by
the average living soul that
wanders the planet unappreciated,
which means these souls are the nails.
As nails, we get pounded by hammers
and sometimes we poke out in time
and need another pounding again.
This means that the hammer is the
executive who is essentially in control of us
and is never really happy with anything that we do.
Above the hammer is the controller of the hammer.
The person that grasps the hammer and swings at will.
This person is the real head of the world.
Though there are fewer of them,
we let them control us like light switches.
They know that if we got together we'd form
a nail gun that would overpower their hammer.
We as the population, the nails, have got to
take these hammers and overpower them
for attempting to overpower us for the last
century of this modern era.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 5, 2011



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