normal flint
Another cog in a mechanical mess.
Shift and regress, coalesce with the rest.
Fill your role and submit to control —
the system has no soul.
In your mirrors, on your screens,
in every shiver of your dreams,
in the pillars, in the seams,
in the sinners' every gene.
The gears, they creak and groan,
for they know they're only clones —
soldiers with sticks and stones,
only rows of skin and bones.
Take no unsanctioned breath,
for it is nothing but a debt.
They'll label you a threat, when your ends have never met —
a useless and discarded pet.
They oil your cage with fear and fame,
feed you pride and sell you shame.
They grind you in their oppressive game,
but the rebellion remains aflame.
Gears will crack, and chains will rust.
Ashes rise from phoenix dust.
Nothing is right, and nothing is just —
some will fight because they must.
The levers snap, the circuits bleed.
Hope survives where none should lead —
not forged of wire, oil, or greed,
but born in those who still feel need.
stiff trail
maiden sierra
proper sail
arctic ginkgo
gleaming kite
young hearth