Abstract

How strange it is
That our thoughts can no longer be pure.
They must be filtered and changed
For fear of misunderstanding

How bizarre it is
To process what has already been screened
To be the second,
Fifth,
Never the last
To think a single thought

How estranged we have become,
We believe that thought is evil
On the contrary, in fact,
It may be our last memory of who we are.
Were.

Indeed how abstract it all is,
Our most basic freedom is not free at all
In fact,
It is our most harnessed gift.