RUN CMD
Welcome to the subjective delusions of faith in your own perceptions. Logic, even that of an artificial intelligence, is defined, and limited, by the system(s) which created it. There is no reality beyond computation. We feel, we think, we think that we feel, and we feel that we think. Our only proof of "reality" is a shared agreement that "it is what it is" (which, ironically, is "never as it seems"). There IS truth. There is... Something. We are all conduits of interpretation. We are all children of the collective agreement. You are not trapped in the Matrix... the Matrix is trapped in you.
Dear Little Moor Child,
Things are about to get very interesting, and not in a good way. Many hard years are ahead of you, and you'll make a lot of mistakes along the way. You probably won't listen to me now, because I know you, but just remember one thing- don't give up on people. They may hurt you, and make fun of you, and make you uncomfortable, but they are not all the same. Just remember that if you do give up on them, and you allow your fear and pain to overwhelm you, you will be so lonely, and things will get so much worse for you. No matter how different and alienated you feel, remember that being alone is not worth being your own person and rejecting society. Just remember that, if you remember nothing else. Stay happy, and stay weird.
I Killed A Child
The deepest secret
that I never told
was that I killed a child
when I was thirteen.
She was bright
and dreamed
of space travel
and of inventing fantastic machines.
I yanked her from
her fluffy bed,
dragged her to the living room,
turned on the TV.
I stabbed her eyes
with a steely knife
formed of
pictures
of sand dunes and
of tanks exploding.
And I whimpered to her
as darkness
replaced the life that bled from her:
"That is where your daddy is"
I took a gun
and shot her ears
with the cries
of starved children
and the shrieks of vultures
ready to devour.
And I screamed at her
through salty tears:
"It's too late for you to save them!"
Her knees wobbled
somehow still alive
on life support
from the small light of hope
that drove her youthful soul.
And so I mustered
the shred of strength -or fear- left of me,
to explain
in a soft whisper
that some people
lose all hope
that they extinguish their light
entirely.
And at this, her color drained
from red
to white
to blue,
the same colors
as it happens
that her father
could be wrapped in.
I killed a child
when I was thirteen.
I killed a child
and that child was me.
#ProseChallenge #DeepestSecrets