Oh, poor souls
looking through the
glass of delusion
the fogged pretentiousness
of hope
of being something more
than skin and bones
of living a reality filled
with dreams and hope.
Oh, poor souls, the mortals
roaming with invincible
acts of defiance
as if they flew high
over the establishment
as if it all didn’t end in
a hospital bed
deprogrammed of all ambitions,
of a removed sense
of self.
It takes but a moment
to decode a lifetime
a grim realization of
all that was
a dark collection of
manufactured memories
inside a structure that
was not meant
to last.
Oh, poor beings,
the knowing
the conscious of
their demise
the ones that take
small comforts in
knowing that it’s
all lies.