Poem-A-Day: Day 274

Collective Fears

the soulless collective
that inhibit this modern world
march to the beat,
a pulse opposite to human nature,
goose-stepping collectively
to the sound of change clinking on glass tables,
praising the image of opulence,
golden idols bronzed and tan,
green with envy and vaulted ceilings,
exploding fountains of ignorance
marching to the punch of clocks,
the maintenance of making
while leaving the idea of humanity behind,
a horde of robots smiling in succession,
turning the collective heads
to look upon the filth of normalcy
where resistance is as futile as life,
the only way into the collective
is to give up, show up day in and out.
But when it comes down to the mindless,
the ghosts, souls of those lost
beasts mirroring humanity better than man,
those that stray from the pack,
avoiding the collective,
desperate shut-ins and shut-outs
looking for only one thing,
to not be afraid.
I am not afraid.