Real Life
Born with a burden hanging round our neck,
Rule breaking punished or rewarded,
A maze of amazement ringroading pitfalls,
Each standout achievement recorded.
The mundane actions lost in the commotion,
People losing in the big human race,
Struggling to get their unique voices heard,
Tripping over their bespoke silk lace.
Most secretly hacking away on rusty chains,
Holding their personalised anchors,
Slowing down with each desperate hit taken,
Unable to get rid of the clingy floors.
Targets go past in a blur of disappointment,
Dodging bullets from people’s careful aims,
Lucky shots and fortunate ricochets in need,
To win on these rigged fairground games.
Rules and regulations set in good faith,
Designed to help their followers live,
Turned and twisted by the radical man,
Hoping their imaginary friend will forgive.
Images of the perfect life surround us,
Abs of steel and plastic boobs pose,
Living in penthouses with golden gates,
All photoshopped so anything goes.
Some designer drugs giving a totes high,
Illegal except for the prescribed few,
Aging medication losing the battle now,
As super bugs come charging through.
The law breakers hide behind the law makers,
Not caring about their caring attitude,
common sense left out of the commons work,
looking for the publics mark of gratitude.
Babies born bald and bound by borders,
Children criticized for not being free,
Adults trapped in a cycle of forced work,
Dying in a place that smells like wee.
Real life is the obligatory uphill struggle,
Filled with the rock falls of pressure,
But stop for a moment and see the view,
Your unique life is one to treasure.
Part Dalek 