Silence of the lambs

The joy killers attacked again. In a grown-up world, they talk differently. Everything is a large slice of the perfectly-baked pie for these specific joy killers. Their gapes are silver-coated. They wave flags of hypocrisy over your head and you can do nothing about it - after all you can afford to wash your hair every morning. They are benevolent, you might say. They stand over your shoulder constantly, the usually grim mouths somehow twisted into a smile. Their claim - charity begins at home.
In other news, some of these joy killers attacked our kin. They dictated love. They pointed their fingers at you and you and you. A valiant move, we nodded. After all, what can we do. They have the power to chop off your tongue, snatch away the food from your mouth, restructure your dreams and nightmares. After all, we push the button. We are the ones who choose to make an informed decision. 

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