Dystopia 

Dystopian forces are on the move, 

their disciples speak with silver tongues,

the mute masses march

to whatever tune they play.

We are blind, seeking a savior,

only to find false prophets.

Our wants eclipse our needs,

the truth is bent,

like iron in a hot fire,

warped by inflammatory words,

that are consumed readily.

We are what we eat,

we become the nightmare,

in the quest for peace,

at the expense of freedom. 

Willing to be shackled,

by the darkness.

Growing fat on fear,

turning against ourselves,

as we justify the hate.

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