b.j.

swallow, hollow, little lies
stuffed down deep until you die
packed away with sugar and salt,
blistered knees upon the asphalt

gratifying those who would force
the deceit, until you’re made hoarse
encouraging them to continue
expanding their talents from the few

wearing a collar by your choice
given up the right to voice
your complaints and distaste
when it’s shoved into your face

your own decisions led to this
you’ve no right to be pissed
unless you shed the chosen chains
from protests, I suggest you refrain