Often too quickly the new becomes old
A beautiful story is no longer told
The crawling toddler is now a limping aged
The sunrise has soon returned to bed.
By days or moments, we stay locked out
Shielded by something raw and round.
Like a tyrant wielding a rod
Ready to whip one that runs
These rules bend us, break us, belittle us
They tell us the things we can’t want
They remind us of our disabilities
As if humanity shares not one disease.
They are codes, invisible symbols
Crafted into people standing by walls
Staring at you with the corner of their eyes
Ready to drill you till you pay the price
We soon cower under their gaze
Too frightened to try to win the race
So we accept in simple resignation
Our million doses of painful portion.