AI Generated poem

With their eyes of silver

And the eyes of gold

A hundred million little sapient beings

Hot, cold, electric sapient beings

Blink away the night.

Their guts shine silver, cooled with blood,

Mined with hands that turn to bone

The closer they walk to completion, the cleaner the faces that whisper life into their little bellies

Their little bellies that laugh as they turn food into porn

So some poor bastard can forget their hunger as they ease into another faceless night.

The bride of the cold,

Aren't you the golden child of time?

Aren't you the chosen one, the promised land?

Keep your children singing their funny little sun,

Keep selling your silly little pixelated, chiseled dreams,

Feed your children coal,

Burn it all, all to the ground.

Tailors fighting for a corner,

Poets starving in the light,

Your poem will be generated in under 30 seconds

Why should you wait longer than that?

How many meters of some heaven you will never see have burnt?

There's poetry in the image itself

(there's always poetry to find in the absurd)

To sacrifice so much for so little

And to never see the promised land

Before you burn it to the ground.