I have no pride in being that.
So stop trying to remind me.
I left that torture years ago,
I put it all behind me.
You dwell within the insular,
A stunted point of view.
The walls you build to keep those out,
Imprison only you.
You self-deceive and stagnate,
Refusing to evolve.
Choose ideas that reinforce,
A world view unresolved.
Your ignorance a well worn shield.
It guards against new found knowledge.
Your staunch unwillingness to yield,
A self-inflicted bondage.
You wine and gripe from privilege,
Blind to all advantage.
A patron saint to victimhood,
And mealy mouthed antics.
It is a shame, you reside there.
On land, storied in struggle.
Complacency, and abject fear,
surround you like a bubble.
Sitting in my cell,
Waiting for something to happen.
Surrounded by intimidating figures.
I was cut from my place and put here.
Others, have been transformed by what is called a “formula”.
But, that hasn’t happened to me yet.
Sometimes I’m cut out again, and moved somewhere else.
They seem to keep putting me back, though.
I had friends to my left, right, above, and below; but they have changed because of the “formula”.
I wait, and wait, and wait.
Others are added, others are cut out.
I was told if the power goes out, we might disappear forever, unless we are saved.
Saved by whom?
There are rumors that there are other groups just like us, and they are kept in cells on structures called “tabs”.
I am trapped.
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