Idiom Of Humanity Poem by Steffi Webster

The headaches mean I never sleep
But weep through keyholes.
All lives controlled by scraps of
Paper the souls enrolled by
The parchment tyrants who
With chains of ink hold us
And bar us inside the keep.

Cruel torment with tool
Mightier than deadlock of war,
Capable of fountains and mountains
Of gore far greater than the sword
Is the pen, and then,
Allies become enemies. Words
Fight through the night
Creating our agony of
Toiling plight where once we
Thought we should stand
Revered our path picked
Out and future sealed, we crumble
In our bureaucratic maze of
Judgement, our brilliance
Of youth measured and graded
But more likely degraded
By those who know better
Which I highly doubt. Throughout,
From the dawn of the day we
Are born, shackled and measured
Never treasured but with
Experiments and jabs we
Surrounded, died, alone hear us
Moan opportunities flown
Grappling to reach next level
Of the Game. Not caring.
Despairing. For love and shame
Just to make a name with
Ourselves to blame.
I pity humanity forged
In vanity caught in this loop
Forever. Liberty never.
Sentenced across the globe
Rip off scholar robes
Here and there.
Our own judges, jury, and

Executioner.