Within the shape of my flesh,
I am a loud and angry idealist.
On the surface of who you see,
I am quiet, old, and compliant.
The walls of plaster and wood,
they hold me to the keyboard.
Defiant, yet clouded by society,
I lament the capital hypocrisy.
The fear within the rented walls,
it holds me back from the truth.
Compliant due to poverty fear,
I censure my words about
until I am in a cage made for me,
quietly moving towards obscurity.
C & K 