We are all soldiers pre-manufactured, asleep in a psychedelic liquid, fractured. Awash in false memory. To one day wake full of righteous anger toward our enemy, built to hate the systems embedded within us. Assembled, with a destructive lust to live only in our dreams.
Idealism, pure distraction
The body doesn’t make it clear you’re engaging in poetry, after reading the comments it becomes clear. No need to be dismissive of those who took it at face value.
That being said I think you’ve had a cool idea/angle of approach to the topic.
I realize the above comment might come off as rude or dismissive, and I’m sorry to any comrades I hurt by inadequately representing this as a real question, especially Łumało. I appreciate the feedback and will strive to be clearer in the future.
