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Look at them there.

Pointing, charting, analyzing unto death.

Everyone’s trying to sell you something.

Every month we owe money to someone we don’t know.

Consuming, breeding, tantalizing unto death.

Distractions are ample. Be it games for the people or new shopping malls;

Our gaze is ambiguous and fixed this way and that.

Humanity is the sickness of the Earth.

You there, what is your purpose, I beckon.

The fat man behind the counter is made to service the company and the customers.

Somehow he is okay with his baseness.

Is it ignorance? Lack of understanding?

No, he is merely comfortable in his conformity.

He makes ends meet, all the food is affordable, and within proximity.

It could be worse, he thinks to himself as he imagines being homeless-

or having been born in a less developed impoverished nation.

Yet he never imagines how much better it could be.

We could be better.