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Sep 2018
A society of replicas march
heads bowed.
Feet that grind heavy over concrete ground.
To admire their deity,
with empty smiles
Lives on trial.
Lives in denial.

From people to clothes
movies and shows
Communication stripped vacant of what we all know.

A society of replicas march
heads bowed.
feet that grind heavy over concrete ground.
Robbed of beauty.
Blind to earth.
but what is there to see,
when all you see is dirt?

A society of replicas march
heads bowed.
Feet that grind heavy over concrete ground.
eyes magnetized to their devices,
pulling their faces to their vices.
With glossy eyes
fueled by bitter lies
internalized to home.
But still to claim
no better relationship,
Than between man and phone.
Neo
Written by
Neo  18/M/Seattle
(18/M/Seattle)   
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