Giants, Beanstalks, and the Illuminati

Oh how we try. We try so hard, controlling our surroundings, adapting to the situation, a constant flow of energy being pulled from us into the world around us, swirling higher and higher, up a chain of folded green papers that rises ever so high into the sky. All who dare to climb this beanstalk of numbers and presidential faces are prone to meet a giant, and down the beanstalk they tumble, either dying on impact or living out the rest of their days dragging behind the herd, constantly stuck on what could've been.

You see we try because we have no idea how beyond our control this really is when we play by the rules. Imagine a revolution. If we put down our phones and picket signs, opted for what needed to happen, would we all die? Probably. So what rules do we fight and how do we fight them? Who knows? Oh right, nobody. Because the same giants who grew the beanstalk underpaid for our education and took away our right to know how to host a revolution. Ah, but we can still take up arms, right? No, because those who actually want change have been manipulated into a category, a subculture of anti-violence, so we protest the only right that could save us. Free speech, but nobody listens because every voice is different, and nobody can hear us all at once. Deflected and scattered, everyone who wants change is speaking over eachother and leaving us about as effective as a fan in the window to help the giants sleep at night. And the beanstalk grows higher and higher into the sky, the giants continue to have more and more to take from while what we have remains the same. Constantly distracted by a new way you're supposed to feel, a new thing you're supposed to say, and spending more time editing your feelings than editing the destruction all around you. Brush past the smoke, read between the lines, and when the time comes to defeat the giants, I'll be there. Will you?