I look.
I see unequivocal bars,
I hear these dwindling lights
I am a point of flight.

I spend my life piggybacking up hill,
Away from the factory mill,
Towards our own delusions,
our own stack of pills.

If I venture towards the light,
Towards the flight, might I see right,
Or even slight opportunities towards an escape,
Murmuring plight.

Reclaim the night,
reclaim our sight. Our sight.
So I can fight-
– back against this downward plight.

An enforceable doom.
Just say no with an intolerable boom
Soon…