Realize the Despondence

Realize the Despondence

Sorrowful melodies ricochet off the ears,

Of the tone-deaf slaves

Whose brittle bones and skins of dust,

Blend into the soil they sow

Gorgeous scenes never reach the eyes,

Of the colour-blind slaves,

Whose work shades their eyes

From the beauty of their world

Detritus that is art,

Screeches that are music,

Remain unrealized by the slaves

Subject to a life of labour,

Exploited into believing that they work voluntarily,

Returning home to a tedium of family and biased information,

The slave remains trapped in their cell

To change their lives, I would like

From an acceptance of monotony,

To a realization of despondence

To visit their hearts, I would like,

Realize their despondence,

And carry it with me

To open their eyes, I would like,

To the magnificence of a scene,

In all its spectacular glory

To change their despondence,

To an embrace of culture,

I would hope to accomplish

To let them see, in a world of death,

The beauty of their presence,

Their exquisite ability to influence,

The detritus into art,

The screeches into music

And the despondence into joy

-Poem Fanatic