The Lies they Sell
A Poem
Micro, intangible, tactless horrors,
found everywhere.
In your food. Your clothing. Then your mind.
Hindered by profits, bonuses padded—
for those who sell out.
Your Christmas? ruined. Your employment was,
in their words, not driving value to their pockets.
Laid out so openly as they wrap their gilded gifts.
The American dream reduced to the elite.
Dynamic pricing.
Progress is necessary, while meals are a luxury.
Guised as a positive? What’s with the lies?
Hell hath frozen over.
The experiment is failing.
We The People are so consumed-
Devices, vices, addiction to scrolls.
Thoughts? Not your own.
Engineered efforts ruin your mind.
Fed to you in microdoses—
to inevitably reshape your thinking.
We dare to speak up but our voices are muted,
Hidden from you like some kind of mutant.
They plague our minds with efforts unseen.
Suddenly you’re sifting through files looking for a gotcha.
These men who thought they were immortal-
Wrongdoings publicly displayed.
Yet the only action taken is in the UK.
What are we doing here? Giving up?
We’re only powerless if we believe as such.
Action is scary- the risk lies in the discomfort,
Public humiliations for all to see.
That’s why they do these things,
Scraped away our anonymity.
Taking ownership of our name, likeness, and pain.
Profiting off our terms and conditions.
Pointing to the fine lines where we clicked accept.
Thank you for reading my poem!