Artificial Existence,
Of new born zombies,
Passion forgotten,
Of pace to breath,
First Inspirational,
Now mechanical,
Trapped in a cycle,
To motor a bible,
Many potentials,
Of content approvals,
Lost credentials,
And stopped travels,
Everything is empty,
Now the faces flee,
I’ll be the enemy,
By the count of three…
Luc Laverdure