Fat Of My Soul

The Fat
has melted
Off my soul
Yet I still 
stand

Words came 
at me 
like bullets 
whizzing
above wire

The truth no longer
wears a banner
rather it is smothered
within a cloak

GPS
Microchips 
voice assistant
have waived our
right to have control

When I see 
parrots
post
thoughts given
to them
I realize thinking
has now become
programmed

Thinking this way
I guess means
that my hardware
has malfunctioned
as I cannot follow
the rhythm of
the MACHINE

The fat has
melted off
of my soul
but deep inside
the manufactured
tin
there is a 
human within