Servitude

Commentating all the actions of the robbers in their mansions -
Look how prettily they sit, while you're working in the pits -
You keep on digging to find solace, but no basis is made flawless.
The hand that feeds will never bleed if you've been biting for centuries.

Subjected to the outside, submissive to the mirror,
The arbitrary consequence of solitary sustenance.
A subject to the inside, permissive to the danger,
The mandatory helplessness of voluntary decadence.

Reverting back to what you know
Doesn't comfort the ever growing pain of servicing
And bargaining.
If what you reap is what you sow,
Then by God you must dig up a million holes,
And sell your soul
Only for a chance
To hold something that is your own.

Subjected to the outside, submissive to the mirror,
The arbitrary consequence of solitary sustenance.
A subject to the inside, permissive to the danger,
The mandatory helplessness of voluntary decadence.
You are begging to be saved,
But you can't have the life you crave.

Excavate your hands,
And notice that the hole you can't get out of
Was dug by them.
The dirt under your fingernails;
Your tired limbs have all but failed.
But you're too far down
To climb back out.
There's just one way to go from now.
Down, down, down.
And maybe you will reach the other end,
Or maybe you will only descend.

Subjected to the outside, submissive to the mirror,
The arbitrary consequence of solitary sustenance.
A subject to the inside, permissive to the danger,
The mandatory helplessness of voluntary decadence.
You don't want the life you saved,
So keep digging your grave.