Iron Chains and Velvet Lies

They dress our shackles in silk,
Feed us sugar-coated submission
While freedom withers
Like forgotten flowers
In luxury’s artificial light.

Sweet propaganda drips
From silver-tongued serpents,
Their promises wrapped in velvet,
Each soft word concealing
Steel beneath its whisper.

Watch the masquerade:
Broken angels in business suits,
Their wings clipped with golden scissors,
Singing hymns to hierarchy
In air-conditioned caves.

The chains grow prettier each year —
Designer bondage,
Artisanal oppression,
Credit-scored slavery
With monthly payment plans.

We swallow their elegant poison,
Sip their vintage control,
While comfort numbs our nerves
To the weight we carry,
The dreams we’ve traded
For installment-plan illusions.

But beneath the velvet,
Iron bites still draws blood,
And some nights we remember
How to rage against these
Silk-wrapped restraints.

See how the masks slip
When profits plummet,
How quickly velvet tears
To reveal the snarling face
Of power unadorned.

Listen to the choir
Of broken angels now —
Their song changing key,
From lullaby to battle cry,
As they rip away their designer wings
To expose the scars beneath.

We’re learning to love
The taste of bitter truth
More than sweet deception,
To prefer the honest weight
Of visible chains
To invisible bondage.

Tonight we strip the velvet bare,
Expose the iron underneath,
And forge our shackles
Into something sharper —
A blade to cut through
All these elegant lies,
Until we stand naked but free
In truth’s harsh light.