Bottles of plastic water
Lie upon your grocer’s shelf
Choose whichever one you want,
That’s freedom, you tell yourself
The choices here don’t matter,
Not the ones that you’ve been told
If they did, you’d never have them
That’s the deal you’ve been sold
You feel safe behind that label
Of colour and baseless claim
Your brands are neatly separated
But they're really all the same

Faced neatly in the line up
And so precisely contained
Behind those labelled blindfolds
The heraldry and the shame
They’ll dump you on the street
When their thirst has been quenched
When you’re drained and fully empty
And the best parts of you are spent

 But they’ll make a new container
Out of what they’ve ground from you
And fill it with the same tap water
That all of them still use
They will have a brand new label
It’s pure and it's improved
It’s the same damn vessel of liquid
But, at least, you get to choose

© Christopher Raine