Untitled

An echo is heard through the crowd
as the teleprompter comes on
The "truth" waiting to be shouted by the masses
scrolls across the screen

With dead eyes forward
the group repeats the words they see
Chanting in unison
With each passing phrase their false outrage
overshadows all other sounds

Stomping of feet
as they march forward
Regurgitating the same flat phrases

What progressive changes they seek
So peaceful in their violence
Well read and educated in the words they speak

Can they see their strings I wonder
as puppets putting on a show
All believing they're real people
In truth
they'll never know