My Barbed Wire Syndrome
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Poetry
They expect us to play ball
But always move the goalposts
They expect us to hold boundaries
The same they overstep
They want us to abide
But break their own rules
They want us to be responsible
Three hots and a cot, how can we be?
They expect us to be kind
In a place it can be exploited
They don’t want us to be violent
In a place violence can be a commodity
They want us to show love
But there’s no love here
They want us to soften our ways
In a place hardened men thrive
They expect us to be truthful
But fill us to the brim with lies
They take so much
But give so little
They wanted me to conform
All they formed was a con.
They expect us to play ball
But always move the goalposts
They expect us to hold boundaries
The same they overstep
They want us to abide
But break their own rules
They want us to be responsible
Three hots and a cot, how can we be?
They expect us to be kind
In a place it can be exploited
They don’t want us to be violent
In a place violence can be a commodity
They want us to show love
But there’s no love here
They want us to soften our ways
In a place hardened men thrive
They expect us to be truthful
But fill us to the brim with lies
They take so much
But give so little
They wanted me to conform
All they formed was a con.
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