Memory

Standard

Memory is a fickle mistress
That bitch rules our lives
All this soul searching
Because of the Ides
Of March
Approaching Fast
Already gone
And yet it remains
We retain
The sliver of information
Fed piecemeal
To the nation
To the world
Cannot allow
The truth to air
The billionaire
Is sacred
An immutable
Impugnable and
Distant master
Ruling over
Filled with laughter
At the struggles
Of the man
Beneath the heel
Almost beneath
The very notice
He craves
And when the stars come
Out to shine
Their light down
Somehow it hits them just
The same
There is no difference
Excepting intention
Pure effort and yet nothing from the
Right direction
Free the people
And yourself from greed
Find the only truth 
You need

 

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