I live in my reality caught up in a deception of sterility.
Walls to keep out the hoard, though illusive, are now stronger than ever in history.
Judgment, though so passé, is more succinct than anyone may have known.
Don't suggest we have lost our way.
Don't bring up what is right about the other side.
The other side of the castle's illusive walls, that are oh so very strong.
I am not worthy that you should enter inside my walls.
I say to the light “turn on,” and it does.
And to these machines “clean my clothing and my dishes;” then they do.
To these other machines I hand my facts, and they record and sort them.
Still more machines “drop water on me” that I may be clean, and I am maid so.
Still more machines “bring me here and bring me there,” to keep me safe and keep working on my illusive walls.
To others like me, I complain they have not worked on the walls as hard as I have.
To the police, I complain they have not cleaned my city streets, of those who have lost their way.
And to the Judges and Politicians, they have not cleaned my conscience, of the bad in the walls I have built.
I am not worthy that you should enter inside my walls.
The walls, extorting me to live in this place of such cleanliness and order.
What do I know of the 'good' such control and sterility bestows?
Without Temperance, these walls have given me safety at the price of freedom.
Do I deserve either?
The story this^ came out of is about a Shapeshifting Dragon unlike any before it, do you want to read the story? Tell me in the comments. I just want to know if you are reading. I have much more along these lines I would love to share. Don't just up-vote; comment so I can know how to best share.