Fiction

Your words paint illusions of a forbidden valley too sacred to view,
The slick shades of autumn's leaves drifts past our eyes; craving to sip its dew,

A trist of peace and love as long as we conform,
To preserve the existence of ancestors unborn,

Clever FOX seeks minimal action,
Keeping the forest tamed with tales of fiction!

Well fed in his hole,
Whilst the rest of us starve,
Suggestions of danger,
For animals who dare leave the park,

Cunning little FOX, with words so thick,
Tear apart our morals, Keeping us sick,

We can drink from the river,
You'd often say,
Thirstier then ever
You take it away,

Here feed on this nectar,
You try to console,
Storms brewing this way
Rations tucked in your hole

Mischievous FOX we continue to listen to thee,
As our bodies rot and our knees bleed,
Our intellect's standardized lacking conviction,
We're trapped in your world, enticed by your FICTION!