Drudge

Questioned not by retrospect,
a generation's sum experience,
can shrug away our past mistakes,
our primaevil flirtation wanes, relents.

We've gazed up at countless bulbs,
but when examined all appeal is lost,
and when our shadows wither so,
our icy houses thaw and soon defrost.

Her abrupt demands are jeered,
and in return our tributes garner scorn,
escaping through a fine wire mesh,
hereditary contracts break; we're born.

In a second's time we're set,
in molds not understood by modern men,
our budding atmospheres sucked dry,
were once unique yet now we're groups of ten.

Death in alleyways preferred;
to medically prolonged decline's esteem,
but half our conduits are closed,
our sphere atones; we sleep too deep to dream.

Punishment enlightens us;
offline, acuity is multiplied,
our revolution snatched away,
in waking, count our minds and then divide.