Stephanie Bitton


They flip the switch
All eyes flicker open
Forcing my mind, my opinion
My life into a state of surrender
A state of submission
They take me over
Leading me like the tragically animated
Composer leads his brilliant orchestra
Controlling me like a parasite does its host
They think for me
Move for me
Feel for me
As I fall into line with all the rest
They whisper soft lies and empty promises
Into my ears
Watching the massacre of our programmed minds
No one sheds a tear for the generation
Thrown to the dogs
Wasting away in the golden rays of summer
Lost in the crowded filth of normality
They watch from their tinted windows
Which reflect raindrops pounding
On the shoulders of tomorrow
Wind thrashes against our cheeks
Yet our stares remain hypnotized
Nostalgia grabs a hold of our souls
And digs his nails in deep
We are the actors whose lips are forced to
Conform to our all too familiar lines
Repeated every night for the same dying crowd
Buried in their seats
We pull the trigger in unison
Laughing with the phantom from the barrel of a gun
We yearn for the cold embrace of reality
Remove the mask that numbs our passion
Parting our lips we scream for the touch of escape
From the life that was never really our own


Copyright 2002-2006 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2006 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.