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Rated: E · Poetry · Tragedy · #1273916
Perhaps the future isn't so bright after all...
Plastic

Welcome to the future.
Trample the lowly earth, create
A monstrosity.
And let these walls be grateful, that you –
Their king, their lord, their god –
Have built them high.
Who needs poverty?
There’ll be no stable-boys here;
Everyone’s a prince.
Ride away over the horizon, on your
Plastic white steed, made in China.
Read the blurb, watch the film –
Is this the future?
Stories of another land, a myth,
Of free-range eggs and milkmen and
Real vanilla fudge, not your
Low-fat alternative.
Let the state be your master, sink into
My Underworld – taste my poison.
And like it, simply because they do not.
Take my hand, and bleed with me.
Taste these last remnants of a fading country.
Die for me, my plastic prince.
And swear you’ll never forget.

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