The false idol, Believing in nothing but its own glory, Feeds them the rage they crave. Its promises, To deliver them From that which doesn’t exist, Is self-fulfilling, And therefore true. Such sweet poison, The continuing scam. It settles in the belly like hot rot, Feeding egos starved of validation. Its decay, An increasing consumption of self, Is hidden from them As they have conquered their fear Of having been so wrong By the abandonment of logic, In favor of demented nightmare They would see exacted on someone else. They are the chosen ones, Because they have chosen themselves, Leaving no room, To be chosen by any That can calm their fears. The adrenaline surge, The panting devotion, The hivemind, The ache for the smell of hot blood, Too tantalizing, Too alluring, Too late to turn back now. They are a willing machine, A rage-bot that must be satisfied, And will be put down When the objective is had. The false idol looks down upon them, As it has always, Unbelieving of its own mortality, For it has poisoned itself Before all others. It cannot be satisfied, For it does not own all, As there are stronger beasts prowling, That it serves in its turn. Thus, it too rages and raves, A cancer walking, That invaded itself. The false idol, Created in all bad faith, Cannot survive the light It has craved to try to live in. When it is gone, Its minions Will be left with their empty anger To fester in the holes they were called from. The darkness is with us. Dawn will follow after. Look to the light you carry, It will save us all. Cliff Lake 1/22/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024
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