Escapism is Dead

Escapism is dead
Because there is no escape
When the ones you’re running from
Are the ones who made
The very things you used to use
To take a break from the ugly truth.
Their filthy hands are always there,
All over my childhood, everywhere
From Andy’s room
To the home of a Smallville farmer.
Middle-Earth
To Xavier’s school.
A pirate ship
In uncharted water,
The Wizarding World,
Danny Ocean’s crew.
From Sunnydale
To Annie Hall,
Evil men behind it all,
Preying on the young and weak,
Those they think will never speak.
Propped up by willfull ignorance,
Fame, awards…at what expense.
A victim’s tears, a label, “liar,”
Or silence–that’s all they require
To get away with what they do…
Maybe send some good fortune your way, too.
But now, who will have to pay the price
For all those men who seemed “so nice?”

There’s nowhere left for you to hide
When you’ve let all the monsters come inside.