Merciless ~ Philip Brent
This computer which consumed my life
Nibbled away in small bits, large bytes
It jabbed, twisted as it stuck in the knife
If only Ben Franklin never flew his kite
A world away, you read what I’ve written
Our strange interface provides translation
The powers that be would rather we fit in
That we have no thought, but superstition
Wait, they just told me I’d better be quiet
The bang on the door, the heel of a boot
Right now they suggest I tell you to try it
If they cut out my tongue, it’s mute moot
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