The dark satanic mills, the daily grind
the age-old, yet remastered whitewashed stumbling blocks made out of hurdles of systems of grey people fractured, bent over resigned, contorted, twisted.
a farrowed groove, splinted, inky residue slivering down.
These systems Institutions once seen as places of hope, now, silos, closed, unresponsive echo chambers, draining life out – dying, demeaning, void of emotions, faceless, clueless.
God, come save your people, we are screwed
send us prophets of our time
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