Done in the Senate

This poem actually has no true origin, but I based it off a place where ideas can't always be spread, such as in the Senate, where ideas are sometimes considered obsolete or not much of an impact. Anyway, enjoy this poem!

Done in the Senate

I sat in the Senate, surrounded by men of all ages and sizes
Some were old and some were new, but all knew what happens
The laws were broke, the laws were fixed.
I saw myself a victim of the inglorious fixation of life.

The last law was passed before I adjourned.
I thought about those men in front of me.
We are all not equal and we are all not different.
I thought I was trapped in the middle.

There was nothing to gain, nothing to prove.
Just sitting there wondering what to do.
And then I raised my hand, fingers inched high.
Saying, 'Senate, we are not equal.'

I told them I was done, to forgive me for what happened.
And left my seat to be sitted upon by someone who was not equal.
My time was at an end, one that I couldn't fix.
So I accepted the resignation and tore out through the front doors.

Free at last, free from that room.
The Senate was a mess, but I wasn't one anymore.
It was the last day I left and the last day I would ever see.
The world was upon me, ready to be fixed by me.