Promises spoon-fed to unsuspecting youth.
Work hard and you can do anything.
Do what you love and you’ll never
Work a day in your life, but pull yourself
Up by your bootstraps, first. It’s only fair.
They’ll give you a fish, then use you as bait
To catch their next meal. Once they’re full
They hide the nets and poles and complain
You aren’t properly grateful for the fish as
You choke on entrails and spit out the bones.
The hand up stops where they need you
Not where you’re really meant to be.
The foot on your back pushes down
Forcing you to work harder, while keeping
Those damned bootstraps out of reach.
Working smarter, not harder, is reserved
For the few. Is it better to accept your fate
In the hive? Worker bees are necessary.
Should you not dream of becoming queen?
There’s only one, and you weren’t born to be it.
Platitudes designed to keep you running in place as they
Steal the power generated by the ever-spinning wheel.
Blissfully ignorant that the circle has always been closed.
Trapped in motion, going nowhere until you’re forced to
Surrender the wheel to the next unsuspecting hamster.