We are all soldiers pre-manufactured, asleep in a psychedelic liquid, fractured. Awash in false memory. To one day wake full of righteous anger toward our enemy, built to hate the systems embedded within us. Assembled, with a destructive lust to live only in our dreams.
Totally based in material reality—maybe I just didn’t write it well enough. Thanks for the critique. Edited: This poem is about waking up to the contradictions of capitalism.
Ah ok. I didn't get that haha.
I hope you don't get too much vitriol from the comments lol.