Waiting for checkmate in this chess-board life.
Caught in a net of black and white
with few movements I am permitted to make,
I stand composed of plastic and misery craving a command.
Like a pawn:
no eyes to see,
no mouth to speak,
blind without a voice
guided by an undiscerning hand.
Worthess and expendable.
A life lost in the name of inept progress.
The game grows unbearable
and I am jaded by the senseless death and rivalry.
The knight so valiant
with good intentions
sent to fight a clandestine war.
(Doomed by the 'L' for loyalty that he rides in)
A rook, greedy and invented,
cordial in his interaction
until obtaining all he covets.
Taking as much as he desires,
moving forward and to the side,
never knowing when to stop in one direction or another.
A bishop overflowing with lies
scattering an imaginary scripture
which is labelled truth,
with a crooked maneuver
beguiling millions like a snake through the centuries.
The king and queen with all the strength and influence
remain motionless at the back in vanity observing the struggle.
(All ''inferior'' lives pointlessly lost to serve their purpose and accomplish nothing.)
Never offering assistance, fearing that they may lose their wealth
or cost themselves the match.
But life still carries forward when it ends.
All that is achieved through their actions is murder;
the reluctance and ignorance kills.