Paper People

If I were born a different name, a different number, a different face.

If I were born into a different world, a different war, a different place.

Would you grant me with clarity, with dignity, decency and grace?

If it's not my war, or your war to fight, then why give the accused, the obvious delight?

Of seeing millions of people, right before your eyes, struggle for even the most basic human rights?

We all need to break, free our minds, see the bigger picture, shed a light.

We're working for the people, who help to destruct us all. If you don't believe me, when's the last time you can recall:

The world waking for you, being the formidable effect, of power by money, not a fault to detect.

We are paper people, fighting another war. One meant for the rich, not for the poor. They are destorying what we've built. The sanctuary of life. I cannot fathom why a man, cannot be a wife.

We are spiritual beings,  creativity galore. Why are we not progressing? Why aren't we aiming for less to be more.  Why on earth isn't wealth, used to fight disease, used to better health. Why are people dying? When we all can be saved. If you're aware, you have not a minute to spare. You need to show the collectors, the theives, the ones to blame. That no longer should mere life, be a pawn in their game.

We are deserve the full extent, of what's to offer out there.  We all deserve love, misery and pain. We all deserve anxiety, happiness, to feel we should remain. I don't understand, why you don't care. That the reason we all suffer, is for the person behind the chair. They should be running the country, not the people, not the knowledge or the power. Trust the masses to run away and cower. You're just a registration number, but you could be so much more. If you just disconnect yourself, help open up the door.

We are paper people.

Fighting in a paper war.