Where is the line drawn? What is a leader opposed to a dictator? Where does the “hero” encounter harmartia? Are people just mere pawns in this game we call life?
Enlist to play the game, life, death, limbo. Where the dictator sends his guard dogs to finish the deed for him. A military leader is the farmer feeding fodder to the cattle. Blindlessly following the higher power, in hopes of reaching the light at the end of the tunnel. Is it artificial, is it true bliss? Is the light just a mirage created from the propaganda and false display?
The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree — the indoctrination of youth with ideologies. Adolescence minds as scaffolding, naive souls as foundation, tower above, and soar until the sky is covered with your nonsensical dribble. Present me as an extension of you as you are an extension of another who is an extension of another. Ideas are too be shared, to be destroyed, to be misused, to be taken, to be twisted. An idea is to be executed.
Plant the seed of knowledge and watch it extend its arms, pick the fruit, and sink your teeth deep. Let the juices course through your veins as you become just another follower, then do the same. Become a seedling of a seedling, an extension of an extension, a copy of a copy, a predicable feat.
At the end of the day we are all latex skins hugging bones in the shape of what is man and woman.
Does my writing compel you? Will you become another? Am I the dictator? Am I the hamartia you encounter? Are you the pawn in my game?