#manufactured
There are those who have a place,
And those who lost one.
Those who change the world,
And those who are never known by it.
The seen and unseen.
This girl is average.
Like every other.
Manufactured in a child labored factory,
Under horrifying conditions.
Yet she makes the cut, as imperfect as she is.
to live in this imperfect world,
Obsessed with perfection.
Twisted into believing that it is.
Has not enough beauty marks,
And to many zits to pop.
Focuses on high maintenance,
Forgets the festering wound.
Not quite a reject she is.
The bi-product of searching for that ONE with IT.
****** into a fast paced life with a slight limp, and a stuttered lisp.
Unable to catch up.
Yet she hears, and sees,
And knows.
"I was created to fill a space, and yet I have no place."
A clone of every other,
Same microchipped thoughts.
Walking aimlessly on a planet with no room.
Purpose for the purposeless,
Eat or be eaten.
But you can not eat without utensils,
And you weren't packaged with these necessities.
To feed with your hands is primal,
And not accepted.
Live this life until you die,
Unknown and alone.
We all walk the same stories,
Each thinking we are our own.
Some separate, and find a way,
Never looking back.
But for those of us who walk with that limp,
We will never get it fixed.
And in this fast paced "perfect" world,
Where we can't catch up,
We will never find our way.
Live unknown to die alone.
But alas it is our mindset that makes the difference
Is it not?
The challenge is re-coding what we were made into.
Loving ourselves, and fighting for the imperfect world.
Instead of accepting the roles given by society.
That's when we will become someone different.
But it's not easy.
It rarely ever is.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
I feel strangely sewn together...
awkwardly jutting angles and juxtaposing curves,
rolling over and tumbling down.
I feel indelicately exposed,
my insides playing at being outsides,
bursting at all my seams.
The color of my fabric faded,
paled beneath the sun.
Can you see right through me?
I feel like a monstrous masterpiece,
the innocent aftermath of so many robbed graves.
I feel poked and prodded,
conjured into creation by a soulless, demanding master--
the seamstress' hand at the cruel heart of my design.
The question of my morality poignant,
paradoxical from my conception.
Can anyone possibly save me?
Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 12:47 PM UTC
~
"Why is there only one chair in this room?"
"This once was an island." She replied.
"You favor this place then, I take it?"
"How can I not," said she. "The dawn here is quiet."
"Not on this floor, you are much mistaken! The stairs are like an avalanche."
Looking down at herself, she quickly changed the subject. "There are barcodes on each breast now."
"I see. Were you nervous?"
"Only when focusing on the morning break," She confessed. "Otherwise I was much like you--killing what keeps us alive."
"Is that so bad?"
"I wonder. Sometimes I still feel the bruises." She stated. "But I am told this is normal."
"What else did they tell you?"
"To quit worrying about not being built to scale," she stated in displeasure.
"...and?"
"For me to prepare to fall again for the apocalyptic things written in the sky," She admitted with a wicked smile.
"What's so funny?"
"I recognized your handwriting long ago," She uttered into the centrifuge.
~
Jul 14, 2024
Jul 14, 2024 at 8:54 AM UTC
4.
Patterns of sugarless fairytales:
Field of reeds
Beckoning strings,
Robots in the garden,
Theory of the crows
Favorite lunch spot
Right in front of the window
Where we sit and drool
Our later years away.
24.
Amusement parks on fire,
The new improved hypocrisy.
Amusement parks on fire,
The science of imaginary solutions.
Amusement parks on fire,
The masses in line for the ride.
Jul 16, 2022
Jul 16, 2022 at 9:42 PM UTC
Revolution institution
Gather up the calvary
Empty glasses for the masses
Raised in unity
From the fires, cue the choirs
Sing a hymn of suffering
Generation desperation
As the angels sing
Don't you know?
You can't let go
Cause it's so hard to say goodbye
To what we dim the lights for
Killing truth with lies we die for
Programming emotion
Manufacturing our lives
We are the products of
An over-processed love
That is chemically defined
Cheaper, faster
Blood and plaster
Heart-pumping machinery
Gears and veins
Rewired brains with
Television dreams
Burning engines
Fueled by tensions
Apprehension industry
Mutilation of salvation
As the angels scream
Don't you know?
You can't let go
Cause it's so hard to say goodbye
To what we dim the lights for
Killing truth with lies we die for
Programming emotion
Manufacturing our lives
We are the products of
An over-processed love
That is chemically defined
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 1:35 AM UTC