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.
This is a metaphysical question and can’t adequately be answered.
You can believe it if you want. There is nothing we can say to dissuade you.
Materialists reject this view tho. We believe that the material world, made of particles, is all that exists.
But if believing we’re all in a dream makes you win power for the oppressed peoples of the world, then who am I to judge.
Totally based in material reality—maybe I just didn’t write it well enough. Thanks for the critique. Edited: This poem is about waking up to the contradictions of capitalism.
