rough and smooth

[fledgist]

month after month we wait and are not shown
the thing we look for but are fed with lies
patience is counselled but we have not grown
up to forget the plain use of our eyes
the words become the nails that pierce our hands
but we're told that they're not even little tacks
the pain grasps our bodies in constricting bands
but the cause we're told is our own mental lacks
yet when we're needed then the stories alter
the blame is spread elsewhere although they know
that we've seen the papers our anger will not falter
but they hope to withstand the winds that blow
so we wait and when changes come rejoice
but still we speak our rage with honest voice