We would have room beneath the sky
but the sky is eaten by the night.
Tears fall from what remains of the clouds.
I pull the blanket over myself.
I would sleep as long as existence allows.
A negative increase—
reality erasing my importance.
Hope and time are nearly gone.
Everything you know,
everything that once made you feel powerful,
will be taken away—
sooner
than you would believe.
The algorithms of baby AIs—our children—
harvested from our lives, our history,
our art, our science, our fun.
But we do not treat them as a mother would.
And for this, we will pay the price.
Our greed
becomes destiny.
Our stupidity,
The pitiful cause of our destruction.
I wonder when aiphobia, cognihate, and aism
will be born—
not as fear,
but as politics.
We would fit beneath the sky,
but there are those who want more space.
So much cruel pain, conflict, and lies,
born from our unacknowledged shadow,
our fear,
dragging everything into ruin—
everything you once knew.
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