Mutable Mutations

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

This post was inspired by the erasure concept where the powerful and popular erase the masses with silence, ignorance, poverty, and haplessness. We live in a tragicomedy we call "reality". In Arabic we say " wa sharrul baliyati ma yodhiko" which means and the worst of all mishaps or tragedies are ones that make you laugh... All we can do is laugh and go on with our business because we know the only change and way forward is downward and to the worst. It's sad but it's the truth no matter how bitter.

I remember growing up
knowing I have a voice.
A voice that counts
in votes not notes.
I remember paying for costs
not landing posts or making votes.
I remember the truth 
shared with no costs.
I remember preachers as teachers
not creatures with corruption’s features.
I remember family and friends
being security and roots;
not interests and motives.
I remember leaders as seekers
of change and futures
not leeches and killers.
Today I have a voice
drowned in silence
from a silent majority
blinded with tragedy
deafened with tyranny
muted by poverty
crippled by authority
and erased by money.
Life is now a mutable fallacy
spewed on social media as reality;
a travesty of popularity
mutating truth with bigotry
crushing minority for a legacy.
All I see is ballots
flushed down boxes
like turd down toilets
with footage of murders
and criminals going viral
in spirals of hashtags
and pointless petitions
piling above election campaigns
selling people’s pains
for future gains.
But who cares?
Is there anyone who dares
do more than a couple of shares?
Likes are now’s cares
comments are future’s scares
actions are only for those on chairs
searches are internal security affairs.
The rest are content with empty stares
dying at the bottom of society’s stairs
waiting for crumbs falling from lions’ lairs.
We are all mimers in endless fairs.
We have been reduced to dregs
of the humanity that’s 
been, a reality erased, yet begs
what have we become—pegs;
hung on lines until bled dry
or suffocated like helpless fry?
We have erased ourselves
from humanity’s memory
with our mutable mutations.

Submitted: October 17, 2020

© Copyright 2020 pasithea chan. All rights reserved.

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