(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Discreet Rolled Up Sleeves (Under Siege)

Under siege.
Standards to value.
And fading beliefs.
Under siege.
Minds strung along.
Severed and cut.
Like puppets left,
Without their strings being plucked.

Under siege.
Now by hands unknown.
And discreet rolled up sleeves.
Yet controlling movements,
To make aware and it shown...
Muppets are easier to maneuver.
With it done to convince,
Thoughts from them...
To have been programmed,
And many to speak...
Have no need of their own minds to use.
To do with it still unsuspected,
Strings are no longer attached to their actions.
Under siege.
By no one who has been publicly seen.
Although 'they' control every moment made.

'Whew.
Their hands are so cold.'

~I know.
I wish I knew whose hands they were.~

'What difference would it make? '

~At least we could protest,
To get them warmed.~

'To prove what? '

~We are not completely,
Sold to their mind control business.~

'It's too late.
When strings were attached,
No one bothered to ask...
What steps were expected from us,
To accept next to take.
Now we're just muppets,
With unknown hands up our butts.
Pretending there is a benefit from it to enjoy.'

~To ultimately have 'what' declared? ~

'Their victory over us.'

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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