of
electric names,
carved
digital,
watched
from the static in curved
wattage.
our
sorrows have come.
our
violations are yet to be.
and when
you're watched
on the
edge
of your
own sanity,
desperate
fingers
digging
into the scalp,
trying to
remember
the last
feeling you had,
you will
know it
is too
late,
the
pain-tech
has burnt you
deep,
has
scarred you
and
left you
empty.
no
emotion
remains,
and
sympathy was
but an historic event,
unknown
to children of a dying age.
our
future
is in
this.
our
terrors
yet
realized.
our
next
victimization
is yet to
come.
when they
know you
before
you
know
yourself,
the time
has
already passed.
and we'll
let them
for the
sake of
entertainment.
we'll let
them
because
we
wouldn't want to live
without
it.
we'll let
them
because
we are
owned.
and the
only way
to convey
the
message
is
through
their
control.
the only
way
to reach
the
masses
is
through
the
machine.
it is too
late already
and the
winds
have
changed.
and we
are hard pressed
to escape
before
the end spreads
its
wicked
wings.
Orwell,
they have
already taken
our books
and we
are no
longer
allowed
to think
for
ourselves
and the
corporation
has
succeeded
in
bringing us full circle
so we are
biting at
our own
tails.
but there
is always
turning
it off
and
breaking the connection
and not
being filled
with what
they want
us to buy
and how
they want
us to serve
and when
they want us
to die.
there is
always
turning
it off
there is
always
turning
it off
there is
always .....
....
...
..
.
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