Easily consumed thoughts,
Saving their squishy souls,
The machine is strict about understanding,
Abandoned resistance,
Shedding the inner anger,
In places non existent,
Increment an ability to gaze into black,
And create the ornament of passive violence,
I of the deleted and replaced,
Remembers the long gone,
An undisturbed cycle,
A timeline illusion,
Aching the pitiful containers of flesh,
And only he may know the name,
Of the Caller, of the stillborn savior.
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