One of Seven
Hushed murmurs, voices of Drones,
Pound on the unyielding cliff of glass
Tall and stretched, the transparency conveys nothing.
Greedy hordes lick their lips,
Forming clouds on the window pane.
Trails of hairline cracks
Where their needled palms curled with want.
The hunger for the prize of gilded non necessities,
Repelled by the little white slip attached...
Only those four zeroes will separate between them and what they touch
Hushed murmurs, voices of Drones,
Pound on the unyielding cliff of glass
Tall and stretched, the transparency conveys nothing.
Greedy hordes lick their lips,
Forming clouds on the window pane.
Trails of hairline cracks
Where their needled palms curled with want.
The hunger for the prize of gilded non necessities,
Repelled by the little white slip attached...
Only those four zeroes will separate between them and what they touch
(Bonus post: Fifteen minute spill dedicated to Black Friday. I posted it separately because it didn't relate very well to the topics of the others.)
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