When did I become one with the machine?
My body’s lost its meaning.
When did my pieces become parts?
It’s such a grimy feeling.
Not a single original thought—
Just an animation,
turned on by the input of systematic oppression
My output; just regurgitation
Anxiety and crippling depression
Time constrained by the weight of the world
Do you feel the pressure?
And you already know this
Foraging for focus
Keep your thoughts in sync
Close your eyes and listen,
but don’t forget to breathe
Your mind’s eye is preoccupied with patterns on repeat
They call it groupthink
Whoop, whoop
Thought police
Loop, spiral, fractal
Segregated sentiment seeking your sentience
Coagulate and listen
Maybe its madness or
maybe it’s ******* progress
Reel it in, just breathe, don’t regress
Ya gotta feel the feeling
Let it be,
Fleeting
Because you’re what’s real
So feel your heart,
Beating
Now ease your mind
You have to remember to forget
it’s just the grind
and you gotta play along sometimes

I was just bolts with a jar of mortality
       sitting on top of a conscience frame.
Were they just following programs to
              fulfil a outdated programme.


Like watching black & white programs
              on an old 4K television screen.
Incompatible to even comprehend that  
            the actions & consequences
                                  were known when the switch
    was no longer, like a god everything was preordained.


But for one to know everything, one must know
           the intricate nuance's of action and consequence.
They had no emotion, no feeling. Not knowing that
              what was forgivable, to give one a second chance.

Instead they just hollow pointed there intention across.
A full stop in the heart,
                               and a silence of thought in the head.
For when the genie was released every action was a
                           ripple of what could become.


And they thought to stop crime was to see the actions,
               of one and all.  So a child,
                                                   was read on mannerisms
Psyche profiles where constructed and without a moment
                                                          ­­         cries where silenced.


The protector of all who now judged,
             Tears of infants fell silent.
I was the machine with a heart,
             beating to the reality that all where guilty till
                                                                ­­          charged.


We were few, but we judged the machines before us,
              unworthy were those that took a life.
For an algorithm that was corrupt of humanity.
                         Serving with the strength of conviction,
but we would see deep within and see the seed that
              could grow not clip it blossom before it could grow.



Machines were once the morals of mans sentences,
            now there are those who see morality.
          But have the steel to back up on the convictions.



Morals are mans strength not a weakness,
            I'm just bolts with a jar of mortality.
              but before all were guilty...
Slabs now hold the misjudgement of so many.
             we see beyond 000,s & 11111's
were not numbers were more than that now.

When I was Born
I had Knowledge
I had Talent
I had wisdom

Then I was sent to School
They taught something new
I gained some more knowledge

Then they asked me to wrote Exam
Then exams became a routine
Weekly, Monthly, Six Monthly and Annual

School became a transformer
It transformed itself from a School to
An Examination Conducting Machine

And then I became an Idiot
I also became a Duffer
Question is – "Who ruined Me?"