In between thoughts of noughts and thoughts of nots, a thought crosses my mind whether we are all some kind of bots.
Not robots, but bots, controlled by secondary thoughts of people who are at the prime, prime of supposedly everything.
Our opinions, our privacy are owned by lurking beasts calculating everything with a measure of guilt.
Statues built, weapons dealt, religion decided, people killed, air is aghast with smog, polluted to the brim with daily slog.
Life is insignificant, death is free, do we hide our real selves behind masks of glee? tap, tap, tap, pronounce keyboard warriors typing anything that fans their egoistic inferno Tis' a war of inexhaustible words never to end. destroying precious lives in the bargain.
We walk along the unending roads, roads that lead us to eternal doom. we cannot avoid this cause we don't even remember when we signed up for this
We are all some kind of bots who have lost our thinking power our keys have rusted, our machinery old,
Our control is left with sinister masters we are just puppets with strings of fate moulded to spew poison and hate.