Life’s Unfinished Poetic Song

Is life controlled by the media that encourages communism?    
Or should we just paint one’s life, with a brush of surrealism?  
Who is right, who is wrong?    
How can one truly mime, life’s unfinished poetic song    
Making up as we go, our very own crude sort of rules    
To experience one’s life, by kicking ass, like stubborn mules    
Thinking that only thee and not we, are so very cool    
Picking what we think is the best and only chosen tool    
One day though, we will all be left so far behind    
When, we realise, that one’s life should’ve been more kind    
We say, only if we could’ve stopped, to seek and find    
To see there’s only one way for all of mankind    
That is to close one’s envious mind, as if we were blind.