Orwelien Dysphoria Poem by Daulat Naique

In Oceania's watchful eye,

a new unease takes hold,
A nameless dread, a creeping fear, a story yet untold.
It's not of bread or twisted love, nor carnal sin's despair,
But something deeper, something strange, a burden hard to bear.

Orwelien dysphoria, a soul in constant doubt,
Where truth and fiction blur and bend, a world where trust is out.
Is this the thought they think we think? The feeling they decree?
Are we but actors on a stage, our lives a parody?

The telescreens hold our gaze, their gaze holds us in thrall,
Is Big Brother watching close, or have we built his wall?
Our language, once a vibrant stream, now clipped and cold and tame,
Doublethink's grip, a constant war, to play the reality game.

We yearn to break the mental chains, to scream a heartfelt cry,
But fear of vaporization chills, a whimper is our sigh.
Is this dissent a thoughtcrime too? A flicker in the night?
Or just another cog malfunction, a glitch within the light?

We search for solace in the dark, for whispers of the past,
A time before the Party's grip, a memory built to last.
But are those memories even real, or just another line?
Orwelien dysphoria, a world where nothing's thine.

So in this endless, monitored game, we play our parts with dread,
A constant fight to feel the truth, the words we leave unsaid.
Is this our fate, this mental cage, this never-ending night?
Or can we find a hidden spark, and claim our own lost light?