You were born into our rules. We cut your hair, dressed your body, and taught you the difference between “right” and “wrong” as if it was written in the sky instead of pulled from our ass. We tell you murder is bad, unless it is in a uniform. Unless it is something different. Something less than you. Lying is wrong, unless it is for our reputation. Use your imagination so long as you do not change our rules. You are free to be yourself, so long as you are exactly what we tell you to be. Your morality is not your own. It is a hand me down coat patched with propaganda, leaking like a rusted bucket, but you carry it like gold. We trained you to gather and cheer for your team. That nothing else matters. Our side could never be wrong, even with blood on its teeth and children in its jaws. You should only care about the children in your own backyard. Winning is everything, losing means you deserve nothing. Compromise is weakness, mercy for traitors, the enemy less than human — because we say so. You clap with the same hands you use to strangle. We taught you to wave colors in the air while we drink from golden cups paid for with the bones of those we told you to hate. We told you the world is divided into “us” and “them” and you believed us, because the “us” we offered came with a uniform and chant, and the “them” came with silence. Your god wears your mothers accent. Passed down by force. Saying “god bless you” is more important than asking permission. Your opinions are rehearsal, fed by us, your puppet masters. If you had been born anywhere else, you would kneel to a different altar and swear this one was blasphemy. Instead, you bow to our lies. Every tradition is hand me down you were not allowed to refuse. You are too worried about preserving the past to remember the future exists. We tell you to bow to sacred cows, kneel to bleeding men nailed to wood, claim we are the only good, not because it is right, but because it was done before you. You defend rituals you cannot explain. You swallow rules you have never tasted. You worship words you cannot read. You are nothing more than a righteous virus. Your personality as boring and beige as your Sunday clothes. You are an echo pretending to be a voice. A broken hymn on repeat, off key and rotting. Your morality is not chosen. It is inherited. And you guard it like it is holy, when it is just secondhand control stitched from plagiarized mythology. You sacrificed individuality to fit in with a crowd of cowards, each one as pointless as the last. Your “justice system” sells verdicts to the highest bidder. Your freedom is permission signed by someone richer than you. You are told the law is blind, but its scales are rigged, its sword dull for the rich, sharp for the poor. Prisons are factories. Bail is ransom. The innocent rot while the guilty golf. You will quote “love thy neighbor” before you vote to keep them starving. You will scream about sin while your pastor gropes the choir in the dark. You can be anything, as long as it is profitable. You are sold dreams with payment plans. We call it “self made” when you are born in the penthouse. We call it “laziness” when you are born in the basement. The heels for one, the boots for another. The makeup for her, the muscles for him. Cross the lines, we will hurt you and call you confused. We sell you marriage like salvation, then laugh when you drown in it. We push motherhood as destiny, fatherhood as ownership. We want familys. They are factories that make more believers. Your patriotism is a costume. You wear it on cue. You wave a flag stitched by a stranger, dyed with blood you have never seen. We say your country is the best in the world, you will believe it. We tell you history is truth, while teaching our version, edited for your comfort. The genocide “necessary,” the slavery “regrettable,” the bombs “unavoidable.” We paint murderers as heroes, victims as obstacles. And you clap, because you learned the ending before the beginning. Bodies are private, unless we are policing them. We tell you who to want, when to want, and how to hide it if you want wrong. Your economy needs you broken. Your schools teach obedience, not thought. Your media sells fear as entertainment, outrage as currency, war as patriotism. We keep you tired, hungry for meaning, too distracted to ask why your hands are chained. You call it tradition. We call it training. You call it morality. We call it programming. You do not need individuality. You need the same leash we gave your parents, grandparents, great grandparents. Wave our flag, kneel to our altar, mouth our words like you wrote them. We are your God. You will live, think, pray the way we tell you. And here is the best part, You will pass it on. You will take the same broken rules, the same poisoned stories, the same rotten coat of “truth,” and put it on your children. Force their arms through the sleeves, smooth the collar, tell them it looks good... Because it is all you ever knew...
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