On Being. . . Correct

There is no comfort in your voice
No compassion in your touch
There is no caring in this institutionalized
    Matrix of lies and deceit
This golden age of Reason
    And Technology

My every move is thwarted
My every word contradicted
My every thought
    Every  dream
Every effort
Is a target
    For even more nonsense

And when all of this is over
And trust me my sweet children
    Its closer than you think
When all of this is over
    You will insist
    You were right
But that won’t matter
    we’ll all be dead and
You’ll still be wrong

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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