We’re all Sam Walton’s cattle,

herding through the door.

Clamoring for our shiny goods,

I don’t know what the hell for.

​

We’re all Darren Woods’ saplings.

Our natural existence is skewed.

His black sun lights our growth just right.

Photosynthesis never looked so crude.

​

We’re all Thomas Edison’s dogs.

GE never throws us a bone.

Lapping around digital leashes like clowns.

Moving about as if drones.

​

And we’re all Mark Zuckerberg’s sheep.

Dire apps fire synapses slow.

As the hours tick by, we don’t even try

to remove the harness we’ve sown.

​

As a race, I guess we’ve progressed,

and surged to manage the swell.

Perhaps our dependence will never ever end, hence.

But in truth, only time will tell.