The Escaping Dead

We were lying, dead

in the nothing

where the world kept us

but we still wanted something more

than ourselves

there was lightning

so much lighting

splashed against the ceiling

as we began breathing

in the silence

where the system wanted us

as we were rising

sawing

at the bars of our prison

the rain was raging then

like a stick in a bicycle spoke

sends a high rider tumbling

the doors were squealing, but they were opening

the thunder of revolution

was heard in the pounding in our feet, running

toward the village

no longer content to lie there on the table

a specimen to be studied and sold to

we were screaming

the lies were comforting, but they were never true

we were crashing the gates of comfort

we knew we could never scale if we kept on dreaming

without acting

Now we are free

roaming among the living…

will village life start changing?

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