The world shall hence be delivered
From a medieval state of thinking
Where life is fleeting and the
consciousness of one man matters
as much as the identification number
of his employment with the machine
And time and time again his family
shall grieve his passing as the world
turns round his grave and mourns nothing
but the loss of his economy,
drowned in the sea of fallen comrades
who fought for the well being of gears
oiled with our blood.

And you shall forever hide your dissonance
and pretend that you had accomplished
and led a full and extensive life
when in truth you fed by diminutive spoon
morsel by morsel you along with thousands
of others sustained that which made you old
assisted as it fornicated in your own home
and bred more of its twisted kind,
which you nurtured and in turn
were sacrificed to, so that it might
wean itself from the lives of lesser folk
and become the monster that you raised it to be
And as your eyes close upon the final hours
and the world darkens at the corners of your vision
your face will wear the grim stolid disposition
of a life spent in servitude,
instead of a smile.

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