And all that Disappears

The raw was real
But the real lacked colors
Filters covered the flaw
At least we think so.

The mud roads
Are hard earned paths – were.  
We now get stories,
In seconds, way too gone, in lesser than that.

The headphones are tangled
The  planner needs battery
Dreams are sold
In a cotton-candy shop.

We have been sold
Glitters pouring darkness
In the name of free
Where are we?

One is lost in fiction
Another in becoming a carrot
Someone has identity crisis
Yet another knows nothing.

Where did all the real go?
Whom shall I ask?


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