Food for thought

The memory of the lullaby
My mother used to sing exhausts.
I've been enslaved under pictures of a world
We wanted to make me believe in.
Feebles moments I'm conscious,
I see cables getting out of my head
The more I yell, the more they feed me,
With lies injected into my brain.
Encased in torn cities,
Sweet asylum of the tyranny,
The underdogs are laughing,
Though a poisonned soul and a mind being erased
They seek the secret verve,
Well hidden behind their worn out hearts.
The rain was so acid that day...
Definitely a day to avoid to born.
I was the origin of your smile...
Forgive me to make you cry now.