The Game of Life

June 12, 2012
By Tobuscus BRONZE, Shoreline, Washington
Tobuscus BRONZE, Shoreline, Washington
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

What kinds of games are played in life?
The love of peace, and the hate of strife,
The world of disease, the plentiful plague,
The vaccines are deployed, the remedies are vague,
The blindness of religion, the undying chief
The facts of science, the enduring thief,
The voice in our heads, the God on the mic,
The message from the leaders, priests and teachers alike,
The freedom of the air, the choices one makes,
Or the control of the speakers, which path should I take?
The clarity of my being, the oneness of myself,
The questions not spoken, the books hidden from the shelf,
The large billboards, and the brightly colored signs,
Or the ability to think, the notion to use my mind,
The capability to overcome, the persistent denial,
For how can one choose their voice, if one is only a child?
The pureness of a newborn, the cleanliness of a little one,
Tainted and Influenced by those in strong position,
The ones who brainwash, the ones who oppress,
The ones who you’ll seek to please, whom you want to impress
The ones that show themselves in a throne, while you’re at their feet
The ones that rule the world, the inner elite,
The ones that transmit their message, from slaves to beyond,
That makes us feel powerful, like a player to a pawn,
The ones that set the laws, the ones that set the rules,
The ones that obey, the ones who are the fools.
The epiphany of an old man, the unwinding of fate,
The feeling of dread, that it is too late,
The crown doesn’t make one king, and the mic doesn’t make one god,
Even if one possesses the lightning rod,
So to answer the question, what side should I take?
There is no side, the impression is fake,
The smoke and mirrors, the mass confusion,
The equality of all, it’s all an illusion,
The game that is played, that we’re all thrown into
Is one played in shadows, incapable to review,
We’re thrust into place, of this undying command,
Creativity goes to die, new ideas are banned,
One only realizes the truth behind the cloak and dagger,
Whence they grow wise, and then they are staggered,
We’re only puppets of this masterful plan,
Where one life ended, so another began.

The author's comments:
This piece was inspired by control of the media and of religion, and how people use those tools for means of manipulation.

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