Dawn

Poem 18

At dawn of the new world
Starts, like algorithms, a new cycle
without watching the outcome of their decisions.

Unless it prints something big on the screen
of our life. The very screen you became slave to.
Submissive to the control of their owners
All programs eventually work against you

This may be something scary, deafening
how will people be spending their days
when one of the biggest parts of their lives
the identity, our smile, is simply forbidden.

You’ve been quarantined,
this means that we are prisoners of our mind
so don’t ask me how to see the world
Because I don’t know also.

I just like to gaze at the sun set.
Making money while sleeping.
To wake up every day at noon.