Fridge Rap 3

Questioning what our voice can and should be used for.

Struggle in my world is inflated,

its created by my ego,

perpetuated by a need for glory and recognition and this ambition is so individualist and Thatcherite and its got me thinking that maybe Thatcher was right,

and I hate that,

because the greed and selfishness makes me sick but I'm back in my bubble so quick,

when I'm called on by my community,

and this impunity I can access is middle class,

putting everyone other than the self last and its a farce,

that I can feel bad for my privilege when I know of the pillage,

that has put me in a position of power,

how can I reject the system when I'm the ivory tower?

I am so supported by this voice that is not mine,

than can flirt with the fringe and never really feel unhinged,

I'm so empowered that I am powerless,

and even in this moment of fragility,

my ability to assume a position of disenfranchisement is offensive,

can my voice be anti establishment when anyone that is pensive,

can see right through me and my glass ceiling,

what is it that I'm meant to be feeling?

Is this what guilt is?

How am I meant to be?

My anger at systematic abuse is acute,

and my pursuit of equality that any human no matter what oddity should be loved and treated fairly is real,

but maybe this is not my fight.

What rights can I fight for if I have all the rights?

And if I want to stand for those who I share equal foes with, 

do I have any legitimate reason to oppose with those that feel the brunt of discrimination?

The world needs changing and here I am wallowing in my meekness,

disgusted by my moment of weakness,

not allowing even a second for my bleakness,

because I don't think its justified,

but who do I need to justify this to?

We have every right and we have no right.

The comfortable tragedy of those without fight or sight of anything they don't want to see.

My working class attitude loathes my middle class identity.

My left wing politic hates my right wing descendancy.

Anything I want to say I know the critique that comes against it,

its the comment culture that gets me on the defensive,

and I want to try and reassure those that understand these minutes of reflexive dislike that actually your voice is meaningless,

but our world is meaningless,

so what does it matter?

Nothing Matters.

Enjoy that.

No one can take away your sense of rebellion.

Your privilege does not speak for you.

You are simultaneously the most meaningful and meaningless person in the world.

Love that world. 

Author's Note

Please let me know of any grammatical errors and any groups that you feel this poem belongs in.