In dreams I see the shadows come,
Their footsteps echo through the night.
My tongue turns leaden, cold and numb,
While truth dissolves in pale moonlight.
The ink runs black across the page.
Each throat constricts in silent rage,
As screens go dark before our sight.
We’re actors trapped upon the stage,
Our posts deleted, banned outright.
The ink runs black across the page.
The warning dies within my lungs,
While others sleep in false delight.
Like birds whose songs remain unsung,
We watch our thoughts fade into night.
The ink runs black across the page.
Our fingers type but words disperse
Into the void of oversight,
Each keystroke feels more like a curse,
As algorithms dim our light.
The ink runs black across the page.
They label truth as dangerous lies,
And shadow-ban what they despise.
Our digital voices compress and freeze,
Like static lost on summer breeze.
The ink runs black across the page.
Behind their walls of ones and zeroes,
They mark which thoughts can take their flight.
Our feeds transform to puppet shows,
As freedom dims in silicon light.
The ink runs black across the page.