All the Happy People

All the happy plastic lives
smiling plastic smiles
ignorant of the pain next door
and what the neighbor hides.

Never hearing the voice inside
while at church in highest fashion
whispers from within-without asking
your religion to have action.

Your blazing fire of judgement
condemns all not like you
consuming the beauty of variety
and burning away what is true.

A cold wind blows like fury
through a hole within your soul
empty space you try to fill
with all that glitters and with gold.

Beyond the walls of Sunday facade
you spirit left unfed
living like a zombie
No spark, no passion, just dead.

Sometimes I want to scream right
into your placid faces
to open up your lifeless eyes
and expose your hidden places.

I want to hate you but I can't
it is pity that I feel
your bland and tired existence
for me holds no appeal.