Freedom in a box comes with a price,
Its value is not ours to make.
If it was, we might give it away for free
Opposed to those who charge an arm or leg.
For what should be a human right,
Bestowed to all who cross the earth,
Unbiased by bank accounts, color, and sex,
Here’s to the top-dollar commodity
Earning pretty pennies for the men in suits.
The gift we allowed them to take,
Dangled over our heads like dried-up, wilted carrots
Tasteless and bland, void of passion
Sucked from the marrow, now hollowed
We wrap it in shiny paper and velvet bows
To pretend it is still real and new.