Split Perceptives

A sharpened knife splits our vision in two,
Sending trying times on the perceptive view,
What we can do and what we can dream,
What we can whisper and what we can scream,

The tailored suited man speaks through his eyes,
But he can see only what his money can buy,
The dreamer is spent with his fetters of poverty,
Living by his back and feet, and chances of the lottery,

With acute vigor the stars and strips sway,
The dream as it were has been given away,
It has been taken by cheats, in a more accurate truth,
And money is wasted on the old instead of youth.