Spinister
The spinster spun a yarn
Despite the wild trappings of a delicate life
She stepped aside from the doldrums
Drawn into the constant droning of post-modern
The dreaded stamping out of individuality en masse
The masking of men behind electronic curtains
Real dimensions and connections swung in the breeze
While corporations reap what they have sown
An abundant supply of zombies
For death can only reap death in frank reality
Achieving the killing of spirit in haste
To subjugate all blood to electronic prisons
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