Anesthetized

We may as well be algorithms, dear.
We don't go anywhere. We order
What we want online. We work from
Home, and take vacations in our
Basement separately, with our VR
Goggles on. Is there still a world outside?
I've heard the planet's warming,
But the temperature is constant here.
I've also heard of controversies, but I never
Read the news. I think that we get on
Just fine, so, if there are, beyond these
Walls, unending wars, starvation, hatred,
How much can they mean to us? We've
Left the messy earth behind.
We're algorithms now.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 160 times
Written on 2019-08-26 at 16:42

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