The Box

You were born in a box, a resident looter,
Drowning in facts, a human computer
We were not made to configure emotions or
Argue through life’s every motion, you were made
with feet which don’t fit the shoes
Sometimes there comes a point of mute, when you
Listen, recognize battles, pick and chose
When you can tear people apart, paint them blue
We don’t have to be tough with minds
Of might that will crush opposition, crush any fight

We were not made to be killers, destroying the virus
Of opinions and attitudes which in truth define us
The world is not yours and we have to share this space
But your box is too small and too dark of a place
For the light of understanding to fill to the brim
Instead it sinks to the bottom, a meaningless thing
You will not recognize because it does not compute
In the lessons of life it is clear who would lose

For every reply there is a code in the guise
Of a defense system, an unexpected surprise
But I am not surprised and not easily swayed
and I will tear apart this box, and cave
In this house built from conformity,
Cyberspace is not reality, but this
Darkness is too dark for anyone to see
How being in this state is not normalcy
In the fading air how can I speak honestly
If my lungs are weighed down by constantly

Defending my voice amongst the smothering sound
Of buzz, click, whirl, we’re all going down
An endless tunnel with an endless array
Of patterns of speech, patterns of play,
The children walk with lights in their eyes
LED bulbs which brighten the nights and
Terrify night walkers, passers-by, who still
Value the old and the simpler times
When boxes were mazes and spread
For miles and our brains weren’t dead:
They were quite alive


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