The Modern Pillary Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A silent choke, a muffled plea,
I thought it gone, from you, from me.
The iron bite, the heavy chain,
Wiped from the world, a fading pain.

But look again, it's dressed anew,
In shiny screens, a modern hue.
No rusted bars, no dungeon wall,
Just whispers soft, that make you fall.

The words are spun, a silken thread,
To tie the tongue, and fill with dread.
A clever twist, a subtle slight,
Stealing the voice, dimming the light.

They call it progress, smart and grand,
But hold the same old iron hand.
To make you small, to steal your worth,
To push you down, upon the earth.

A digital cage, a virtual sneer,
The old dark art, still lingers here.
A medieval tool, in modern guise,
Reflected back, in hollow eyes.