Hidden Away
Self imposed prison, with no view into the outside world other than a media sized hole.
With an eye pressed up to it to gaze out as the savage storm ravages the citizens.
How ugly is the vision.
Why is this so?
Why are these the images the our times?
Wheels crying out for grease but the only squeaking being heard is the bleating from their own mouths.
A cacophony so loud genuine cries of distress are drowned in this boisterous ocean.
Gleaming cyborgs, churned out generically to be idolised, adored and admired.
With their PC force-fed lines, until they malfunction at which point they are tossed out onto the scrapheap and left to rust.
A whole chessboard of heroes and villains.
Each one carefully, almost lovingly, carved from articles that are spawned from one end of the Earth to the other.
From this self imposed prison I gaze out on the world through a media sized hole.
One may be forgiven to think this hellish reality is no place for the likes of me.
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