Some yearn to rewrite
The tomes of history
As they feel a desperate need
That never came from their parents
And so called role models
Who led them down the darkest path
Of self-hatred and self-loathing
With only one option to blame the straw man
A reason as to why they can barely function.
Some want to scrub away
All their sins from the public domain
So they will always remain the perfect
Hippest and loudest cat in the room
They dismiss the dissenting voices
With an arcane notion
That lost its legs many years ago
But don’t want to admit it
For their suit of armor will fall
Shatter to pieces.
Some want you to pay in perpetuity
For the sins you never committed
And continually lay on the guilt trip
You never planned
And all the money fit to be printed
Will never cure the crippleness they feel inside
And what is left is a museum of material possessions
To create an illusion of power and strength
Once the well runs dry
Back with their hands out
Yet, the bogy man continues to be blackmailed
And continues to be fed
For indoctrination is being emotionally dead.
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