NM 156

Uniform print out reads end of line. Protect code intact leaves little time. Erratic surveys, free thinking not allowed. My hands shake. My push buttons silence the outside crowd. One world government has outlawed war among nations. Now social control requires population termination. Have we come too far to turn around? Does emotion hold the key? Is logic just a synonym for this savagery, Disguised in forgotten lost memory? Microchip logic, have we no more thought? “Is this wrong” , I enter. Answers sought. Punch, punch, punch, transfer this data into code. Wide eyes watch my number 156 is shown. Created from past life to perform illicit function. I fail this conscious madness. I - man/machine imperfection. Have we come too far to turn around? Does emotion hold the key? Is logic just a synonym for this savagery, Disguised in forgotten lost memory? Have we come too far to turn around? Does emotion hold the key? Is logic just a synonym for this savagery, Disguised in forgotten lost memory? End of line. End of line. End of line...