Dystopia Poem by James Darwin Smith II

Injustices reign aloft
Waving in high and almighty places
Mongering fear as a weapon
Scaring those into submission
Via the green fields of crimson haste



Oh, listen to their visceral voices
Laced in high society dwellings
Handing out razor blade pills of suffrage
The lusting of the golden elders machines
Seeing youthful bodies instead of minds



Droves of capitalistic cannibals
Eating everything worthwhile
Leaving the scraps all behind
So they watch the futile fight,
Against the advancement of their own kind



Cry for the elite
Fight hard for who they are
As they sit back in utter relaxation
Enjoying the destruction
They all orchestrated themselves



A symphony of plight
Simplistic blueprints of current vile
Hope but a myth to boxed in eyes
Visions oblique in utter chaos



So much pride in dormant minds
To be the worst is all the best
No faith in a future of love
Unless it can be purchased,
By the desperate selling of selves



Tears are to be manufactured
Sold to highest bidders
To be used in entertainment purposes
Luxury play toys made from tainted emotions



Desperation is all that is left
Doing everything possible to get on by
Rancor swellings in the lowest dwellings
Fighting amongst each other
For the elites worthwhile



High society waves their banner of victory
On the backs of the meek they all left behind


Who inherits what?