The Kelp Manifesto

Servant of the Suit

You sit there in your suit, an image of what you're expected to be,

nothing real, nothing pure, lets delve deeper, take a peek,

you are what you seek and of the mundane you reek, your image tailored and sleek,

but your cracks leak, happiness is what you seek, but it will always be elusive, dangling from your beak,

ever-present in plain sight your character creaks, you are truly sad indeed,

you are of an outwardly thriving breed, full of greed, you take the lead, but your body and mind will never be free,

you just can't see, or maybe you can and you just hide from what's real,

your life empty, no steel, to observe it is so surreal, you feast on your innutritious meal,

to the man you kneel without even knowing how you feel,

an iron exterior uncomprehending of inner belief,

your accomplishments brief, a dying leaf, constantly fighting an uphill battle so steep,

the dark shadow of real ambition and strife, upon you it will creep.

Boisterous and loud, a deceptive shroud,

you pose proud, as if you fly hundreds of feet from the ground,

you don't hear the outside sound, you're selfish, tunnel vision is ever so loud, sound surrounds,

to this life you are bound, no space to turn away or flounder,

as your body grows rounder, your blade of happiness should be tempered sharper,

that was the blueprint of the father, you sip on it like carver,

an inner reluctance shoved away in the darker dwellings of the covers,

empty lovers, unwanted affection you suffer,

kids jump out on you during your poisonous supper,

it is never too late to recover, but you are scared, you wish you were tougher,

to this life you have lost brothers, a sacrifice not worth of your circumstance growing forever rougher,

you just about continue to hover, you tell yourself that leaving this path is not worth the bother, that you and your kind are all stronger together.

You think yourself superior, everyone else inferior,

you say 'everyone else' like you are a unique believer,

but of a sickening realisation you are the receiver, you are no messiah,

only a pawn for hire, no high-flier but a generic bus rider,

you liar, go and serve your sire, think yourself a thriver,

but really your mouth fills with nervous saliva,

you will never free yourself from your cage of briar, it will enclose on you forever tighter,

for us looking in from the outside there will be only laughter,

we are the ones who will find what we are truly after,

we look up to the rain pitter-patter, our satisfaction growing ever fatter, the ones they will remember,

of this club you wish you were a member, involved like a desperate bartender,

step into the blender, a smush of wasted fervour, you will never go further, for that life you will forever be a suited servant.