The show

We sit
Where the telly plays
In rudimentary sways
To our day
To lay
Thick to deceit all we see.
They play us to be
For all they can
In media lies, we scan
discontent
Whats lent
Is the image they craft
A sinking raft
Imbued to sink us upon
The song
Of their righteous show
The flow
Where designed
Resigned
We fall silent.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
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