This is a short one and wayyyyy too political then I meant it to be.

The Branch Placed Too High

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The world has been pawing, grasping at something for ages, not quite able to get it.

The empowered weigh us down, while the lighter attempt to get it; but it's never quite enough.

We preach that we've reached it, but the oppressed still try to jump.

If we've grabbed it then what are they so desperate for?

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Basically, what the poem is saying is that we've been 'reaching' for a perfect, equal world, but the ones in power stop the movement. They, then, tell everyone that the world is great, but we're left to wonder why people still try to 'reach' it.