Speculum Oris Poem by Tapiwanaishe Pamacheche

Is it a force to die of starvation?
Is it a right to rape her and make love?
Is it normality to have shackles on my legs?
Is there a place to breathe, the iron face mask is suffocating?
Is there a place I can lend a rope for I am tired of being called that?
Is the modern world better or its worse?
The iron shackles does not choose now, we are both Slaves of technology
The iron collars on the neck of preacher deceiving the world, The iron mask of deception and manipulators won by politicians Does the whip choose who?
Modern world, educated psychos
Modern world slaves in all colour but no master Everyone is a slave of art and tech Everyone a slave of mammon
Everyone controlled by trends and fashion in vastness, In a pool of fire
A church rat feasting,
Barley donated to the rich,
Single malt drunk by the poor. Everyone seeking revenge, who is the enemy?