Eating Glue Because You Told Me Not To

Resilience rises
The yeast in an oven of tragic circumstance
As time cloaks understanding
Like a silent contract
To forget that two parties could easily regress
Unless there was a chance
Revenge wearing shoes marked JUSTICE
Captivates a militaristic fold
And the muted cackles of onlookers
Do little to manifest hope for the hungry
Yet this is our story
And we are the shapers of destiny
Contemplating the tree line
As we walk the marked-out path between
The utter urgency of the unfamiliar
Enough to draw us onward
Blind trust in the polarizing positivity of progress
And certain ideals etched into misplaced manuscripts
Or misanthropic mind's eyes glued to pixelated hypnotics
The only evidence we'll ever need in our vastly unencumbered arrogance
That keeps up with changing rules and keeps us playing the game
Telling ourselves we're innovators
Replacing the cogs of a machine that has outlived its usefulness
Tipping our hats to freedom (if we have the time or energy or inclination)
Yet in that same breath, almost inherently, we decree the worship of the walls
Borders made in devotion of a civilized, post-kingdom empire
The East and West coasts of our minds as closed off
As the South border would be
If we cared enough to follow through
On our threats
But as our enemies know
We are a giant in infamy
Yet infantile and obese
Stinking up our economic diaper
And using the rash as excuse to bash our toy hammer
It being our favorite toy
Against whichever bit of the playground
With which we don't pretend to be friends
On that day anyway
But things change
Or so they say
And revolutionary blood
Still seeps into the corners of our comedy
And our commentary
And our hopes and our dreams
And our leaders will play games with our lives
On the bet that we won't know the difference
Because we are the pit
And they are the pendulum
And the victim is time
But the sad thing is
They're the ones
That got the metaphor wrong