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Ears, weary of the sounds of screaming, crust over.
Neural pathways close up from disuse,
As we march towards our better world.
A world we created for ourselves in the likeness of heaven;
We cannot see the end.
Eyes, weary of the sight of blood, cloud over.
Blurry shapes the only light remaining;
The market does not need you to see.
Automation has contracted the human condition; we replace
the bots we created in our likeness.
Vocal cords, weary of argument, wither and die.
You have no one to talk to.
You should only be worried
If you have something to hide; your voice
Is good for one thing only: dissension.
When you come of age you are mated to the gears;
Plugged in to the network. Circuits and blood,
flesh and bone, mesh with silicon and metal.
Your destiny realized, automation; submission
Your choice is this:
Submit or be cast away with the detritus of progress.
Freedom to starve or captivity in bliss.
Hear! The last question of youth.
See! Your world or vagrancy and hunger?
Speak! Your last chance to answer.