The Future Of Walls And Dolls Poem by Birgitta Abimbola Heikka

High, impenetrable walls, I see everywhere;
from the prejudices of man's mind contrived.
I see people with faces like plastic dolls,
feigning feelings but lacking true emotions.
They speak like wound up toys
for behind each word, there is no real thought.

Anger is false
but so are happiness, pain and unhappiness
- emotions triggered by a finger on a machine.

I see man trotting, round and round
like a dog contended but he is deceived
On his obedience, lies his happiness;
likewise, his sadness
An invisible line he has to walk for even madness
can become his lot.
Anger, hatred and fighting on the street
will be automated at someone else's whim.

But man will not know that these emotions are not his own
His born thoughts and intelligence having been excavated
from his mind leaving a void that is manipulated

He will not miss the past for even his identity
will be obliterated from his mind by a finger on a machine
He will not remember his family or the feelings
for them once treasured
For him, the future will be a constant dream
where he plays roles written by someone else.

The past will be the present; the present, the future.