accentric (written for you, on my nicest paper)

we sleuth and sneak and hope we find
the meaning in a crooked time,
make locked the doors in the back of our minds
ashamed of what we hope is true.

we laugh, admiring those with wit
and oft forsake sincerest things -
it's of the past, we all admit, but
do we not long for sincere touch?

dollars bind our hearts with ropes
pulled taught until we lose our pulse
and stumble round the sterile rooms
of squares, and cubes, the halls, this maze.

our fathers strike from their fathers hate
our hands and words are trained the same
so we drink now, accept our fate
our boney fingers on frosted glass.

and every hope we ever had
it's hidden in our deepest heart!
our laughs, a bellowing hollow sound
our smiles, a secret sorrow now.

wake up, oh sleeper, there's meaning to find.
fear not, oh dreamer, your dreams aren't vain.
open the doors in the back of your minds!
search and feel and laugh and know
there's more, just as we always hoped.