Woe to Thee

All the hooks, all the stains in the satin books.
I was told as a child by adult crooks,
The thieves of my childhood.
That we are victims of tireless atrocities,
Brought to our knee's by an elite company.
Told me I was free, as long as I could think and believe.
What was it that was so difficult to understand?

Monuments and pages of writ,
Records of the wit of countless tyrants.
People bent on days hell spent,
Enslaving to breed comatose beings.
Whose choices bleed to the finer things,
Such as eating and sleeping in a place
Called home, something sacred,
Somewhere we can all go when we are defeated
And alone.
Something undiscovered, unknown.

What was it that made them so cold?
Love like a cool breeze in the desert heat.
A rarity in the violence of our past.
Something which has caught up quite too fast.
I'd like to safely step outside,
Not wondering who dare wants to take my precious life.
I don't care if it isn't special to you,
But I can tell you this,
Whether you are lost and in pain,
Or completely happy with your life, mundane.
I would love you all the same.

Is it too much to ask?
That even on our worst days, to extend a lending hand?
There's a lot to say about an open arm and an empty wallet.
We aren't the skeletons we keep secret in our closets.

At least the way I see life, it's as easy as pie.
A saying I never truly understood,
Until the day my mother spoke a few mystifying words.
I'd love you even if you wished for me to die.
Something that I, still struggle to accept,
But perhaps I can comprehend yet, in death.