When my master assigned this task
I bowed and hastened
to comply.
Now lingering in murky cells
I know not a whisper of free-thought,
The past?
The Present?
Or and undecided future?
I was loyal,
I did not toil,
yet here I am, bathed in soil.
If this was my fate, was this my reason of birth?
for the aid of another life?
Perhaps the addition of scum.
It matters nought when all one knows
is what the master taught.
Abide and survive.
Disobey and pay.
This voice once seen as reason,
is but the dictation of my thought.
A lingering echo of all i had once sought.
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