Am I the only one who wishes for change to come?
To see the days turn from grey to something.
Cut out the hum drum which has been allowed to flourish.
For things as such will never manage to nourish.
Yet what I see are the same old schemes.
Men in suits with smiles that do gleam.
Fake and false like the tales of yore.
Down these maniacals, I say once more.
Though still they wander and roam with hope.
They plan to steal what they thus far have fumbled to choke.
To you and me its known as choice.
In their eyes its a word most sick.
Should be carved and cast into a deep pit.
But ’til now they have not prevailed.
Merciful I believe it is that they’ve failed.
Still how long on that can we rely?
I cannot say and do not wish to try.
For some day things will suffer monumental shift.
Truthfully I don’t want to see them again a grip.
Which is why we must angle things a new way.
Otherwise who knows what might unfold.
Other than to say our lives would not be so gold.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 