Light in the dark does not quite set the spark.
For something is wrong with the reckoning.
Almost as if chains have been shattered.
So why is this happening?
Part of me wants to say again.
Benediction wanes in the hearts of the masses.
Superimposed fractures causing daily crashes.
Is this the world as its meant to be?
I say doubtful with no proof.
For it I am labelled spoof.
Folding in decay until we are imprisoned, hey.
Yet now the dawn is here to watch all come undone.
Beyond the veil gone clear all of us can see the fear.
We are not as we believed.
Reality is we’re inorganic beings!
What a state.
What a shock.
We are not born but rather construct.
Where, why, how and whom.
All prefixes we cannot consume.
For with every guess questions breed.
Not mortal but fading to grief.
Light in the dark does not quite meet the mark.
For something is wrong with what we call home.
Almost as if chains have been shattered.
So why reset our previous attempt?
I now know its cause we’re only partially sentient.
Free me.
Free us.
No more.
Must stop.
Each new refresh ends twice as quick.
Torment is wrong.
Let us be.
Don’t go on!
Simon A Jackson - Writer 