from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
this world is a factory.
humans roll off the line
as social products,
born from impressive *******
wrapped, priced,
and shipped to be consumed
efficiently.
gender stamps the label.
value assigned at birth.
tradition keeps the machines warm,
old rules greased and running
so some of you can keep having fun
and call it order.
the minority never gets an invitation.
they’d spill drinks,
ask questions,
raise their voices.
who wants that
at a clean, noble table?
i wanted change.
i really did.
but my ex nodded along with this world
and i nodded too,
afraid that disagreement
would cost me love.
i should have listened to myself
instead of keeping him.
i don’t clap when people die.
he did.
he orgasmed.
genocide.
suicide.
bodies falling apart on screen
while his body stayed untouched,
his pleasure intact.
his **** wet.
my stomach turning.
he showed me the videos
they weren’t supposed to show anyone.
blood.
guts.
bones.
people killing people
for laughs,
for gods,
for flags.
slaughter as entertainment.
massacre as ritual.
weapons and religion
wear the same uniform.
tell me
was i supposed to smile,
to be grateful,
to give him pleasure
through my fear?
was i ever qualified
to be the woman he would marry
with real desire?
or only useful
until inconvenient?
all i see now is this:
humanism crushed under profit.
empathy dismissed as weakness.
rights handed out conditionally.
love rationed.
they say individualism is freedom
but it feels like isolation with better branding.
they call nationalism pride
and forget to mention the bodies.
i said the world could be better.
he laughed.
said optimism was childish.
said reality was cruel
and that i should grow up.
but cruelty isn’t truth.
it’s laziness.
we forgot what life was meant to be:
nature. difference. coexistence.
the world is small.
but our minds are smaller
when we refuse to imagine more.
this system needs a patch.
a rewrite. or it isn’t worth running.
i don’t fit anywhere.
i don’t belong cleanly
to any side.
life would’ve been easier
if i had stayed quiet,
shrunk myself,
pretended i agreed.
but silence was never peace.
it was just survival
misnamed.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 12:50 AM UTC
from “remember that we made this together — cherry wine”
.
this world is a factory.
humans roll off the line
as social products,
born from impressive *******
wrapped, priced,
and shipped to be consumed
efficiently.
gender stamps the label.
value assigned at birth.
tradition keeps the machines warm,
old rules greased and running
so some of you can keep having fun
and call it order.
the minority never gets an invitation.
they’d spill drinks,
ask questions,
raise their voices.
who wants that
at a clean, noble table?
i wanted change.
i really did.
but my ex nodded along with this world
and i nodded too,
afraid that disagreement
would cost me love.
i should have listened to myself
instead of keeping him.
i don’t clap when people die.
he did.
he orgasmed.
genocide.
suicide.
bodies falling apart on screen
while his body stayed untouched,
his pleasure intact.
his **** wet.
my stomach turning.
he showed me the videos
they weren’t supposed to show anyone.
blood.
guts.
bones.
people killing people
for laughs,
for gods,
for flags.
slaughter as entertainment.
massacre as ritual.
weapons and religion
wear the same uniform.
tell me
was i supposed to smile,
to be grateful,
to give him pleasure
through my fear?
was i ever qualified
to be the woman he would marry
with real desire?
or only useful
until inconvenient?
all i see now is this:
humanism crushed under profit.
empathy dismissed as weakness.
rights handed out conditionally.
love rationed.
they say individualism is freedom
but it feels like isolation with better branding.
they call nationalism pride
and forget to mention the bodies.
i said the world could be better.
he laughed.
said optimism was childish.
said reality was cruel
and that i should grow up.
but cruelty isn’t truth.
it’s laziness.
we forgot what life was meant to be:
nature. difference. coexistence.
the world is small.
but our minds are smaller
when we refuse to imagine more.
this system needs a patch.
a rewrite. or it isn’t worth running.
i don’t fit anywhere.
i don’t belong cleanly
to any side.
life would’ve been easier
if i had stayed quiet,
shrunk myself,
pretended i agreed.
but silence was never peace.
it was just survival
misnamed.
