I fear the mold

The uniformity theory

Of stripping conscious dignity

Of the you

Me

Pushing us forward

Never to look back

A pack of wolves

Now breathing down

My back

I fear the mass productions

Facilities

Consistency is key

Holding the soul back

From being free

I understand

Accommodating the masses

But with accommodation

Comes subtle backlashes

Loss of autonomy

Fostering dependancy

I look up

See arrows pointing ahead

I can’t help but wonder

If I’d be

Better off

Dead