Do Not Feed

They tell me it's driven by fear. Twisting and turning well-known clichées themselves have already tattooed on their atrophied brains. I've heard about their way of living. How's it any different? I at least have a way out. Easy they say? Then why not do it themselves? Often have I wondered what keeps them from giving themselves to it. What is it about this numb existence that still makes them go on? Ha.. the old joke, awful and in such small portions. It's almost as if they like their cages. They feel comfortable inside them. They adorn the space between the bars with their enslaving achievements. The great flat screen on which they watch the great flat lives and great flat lies that haunt theirs. That which brings comfort to their own short comings. The pain and disappointment on the face of dreamers are their fuel. They see it from inside their cages and mask their sadist content behind the miserable curtains of fear. But I see them too. And so easy is it for me to understand their truth. How it fits oh so perfectly in that little sign just by their cage. No, not by their cage. There's no need. It's one short sign for them all. It's the same cage anyway. The sign tells me they're humans but I know better.