sometimes it feels like a curse, to be born the Questioning one. it seems it would be so much easier to have no ideas at all. No question. to mindlessly follow. but id rather be ostracized from a machine i dont belong to, than to throw away the most bright and special part of me.
i am not a part, i am a flower.
i dont belong in a machine.
i would rather wilt, than rust.
flowers now seen as primitive and useless
useless unless working
but flowers do work in a different way when you see them. look. stop working and look
i want when you look at me, to stop and think. Stop looking, Stop working, Think.
thats much more valuable than giving in,
to their blood money. They will not capture my soul.
why are we fighting to survive?
Why are we fighting for our rights? as Earths children it is our right to grow here
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