First World Problems

 
Neatly ordered rows
of suburbia,
lit up gently
despite our sin.
Our discontent
will never reach them
and they'll never know
how their sedentary is won.
We are the stifled whimpers
from children's bedrooms,
while mostly mothers
turn blind eyes.
We're the unquestioned
state of bruises;
apathetic neighbors
and cowardly teachers.
We're all the ways in which
signs are ignored
for the sake of
convenience
and in the name of privacy.
We simmer beneath the lie
of peaceful, contented lives.
Living the
American dream;
freedom of speech,
but nobody's talking.