Oh you poor bastards. Those of you who have fought and lost. Those of you who have tried and failed. Those of you who have stood up for what you thought and were thrown down by those who did not agree.
Oh you poor bastards that get shot in the back and pushed in the mud because you can’t learn to behave like proper fucking drones.
You few who have tried time and again to do something to help the world and had your minds and souls mutilated by a system that want nothing more than to chew you up a thousand times more until everyone understands that your place, like mine, is to not question and not move forward.
Stick your head in the sands, you poor bastards, drink deep of the sand and the dirt. Let it fill you ears and throat and your eyes. Speak not through the dirt. See not through the dirt. Think not, not through the dirt.
It is your duty, you poor bastards, to be trod upon by the steel soled boots of those who want money and power and influence. Stand proudly beneath them and make a bridge from triumph at the cost of lives to triumph at the cost of souls.
Lay down upon the ground, you poor bastards, and make a carpet on which our true heroes can arrive. They are rich and shiny, they think the right thoughts, they move in the right circles. They do what they are told and they are friendly to everyone that is important to be friendly to.
Rise up not, you poor bastards, when your great accomplishments and puny efforts are cast down as fodder for the hate that breeds the fear that creates the power block for those above.
Lay down, you poor bastards. Because you have lost. And you will never be allowed to stand again.
Filed under: Truly Ruthless
