Concrete Chaos

I’m tired of being stuck here

Trapped inside this concrete chaos,

This mad world made in a factory,

Manufactured on an assembly line.

Why is this all plastic?

Sometimes I fear that my own heartbeat

May be nothing more than

An artificial dream.

Someday I’m going to wake up

To a Christmas morning

Filled with Styrofoam snow

And an LED fire.

All the precious, REAL things

That I hold so dear

Will one day soon

Cease to exist.

There is little left in this world

That remains undestroyed

By the crushing, deadly grip

Of our toxic corporate world.

What will become of the forests

That I grew up charging around,

Playing games until the

Break of twilight?

We’re trapped inside a world

Where nothing real means anything.

And unless we change this,

It’s only going to get worse.

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