I travel through the valley of darkness
in the sunlight of a new day.
Iron coffins surround my every escape
as I move slowly towards a forging institution.

Objects of understandable incarceration
hold thousands and stand all in one place.
Gears move about a system,
No other concern or worry outside the machine.

The melancholy setting of helplessness and loneliness
fill the air and reflect upon each piece.
Each piece itself falsifying evidence
for being self-efficient and sustained.

Problems in the ethics of the machine
is known by all the operators and directors.
Yet common sense is stored in the subconscious,
ignored but talked about each day.

The motor of the machine runs and this thought
is put over all others.
Knowledge is power,
but ignorance is bliss.