Figures standing straight
No individuality survives,
All are equal, and yet there are those who lead
Without warmth from the sun,
No heat falls upon the skin,
Blackness fills the void,
Mere machines without thought
I dream of what might have been,
Fields of colour and life, full of creativity and uniqueness
No place to voice my ideas,
Dangerous ideas crushed by those above
Part of one collective mind,
Merely a subinge
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