, waSyouNot too

world plagued by manipulation, greed, and deception, a group of individuals found themselves caught in a web of lies and deceit. It all started with whispers and rumors, spreading like wildfire through the community. The air was thick with tension, mistrust, and uncertainty.

As the days passed, the manipulative schemes only grew more elaborate and cunning. The masterminds behind these deceptions were like puppeteers, pulling the strings of the unsuspecting victims with ease. They reveled in the chaos and confusion they created, all in the pursuit of one thing - money. The air tasted like iron and fear,

Neighbors watched neighbors

with eyes carefully narrowed,

searching for the tell-tale twitch

of the informed elite.

of clockwork built for ruin.

The lies became architecture,

imposing, complex structures

where the exits were always barricaded,

The once tight-knit community began to fracture under the weight of these manipulative concoctions. Friend turned against friend, neighbor against neighbor, as paranoia and suspicion took root. No one knew who to trust anymore, instilled unto me I remain the same, and the fabric of society started to unravel before their very eyes. The architects of this maze, not

It is what it already was

they remained stupid already

their faces hidden behind screens of manufactured necessity without their own will to boomerang

We saw only their influence, of the despicable

Disneglingente and discrackteiria

that placed birdsong and easy laughter.

As they get comfortable as Puppeteers, yes,

their hands are delicate but possers that conflict and contain strife for more than all in the mind of gotta be bout something in no cause it is you that can't get away from or even have time for yourself to have a life yourself, but any words can't could not plain my vision , twisted me

the Blame. They pulled the strings attached to our deepest needs— , the promise of tomorrow—I was thinking not and we moved exactly as they choreographed.

low hum amidst the madness and turmoil, .

The City of Ash breathed slowly,

a metallic lung struggling for clean air,

but the only thing thick in the atmosphere

was the unseen dust of manufactured doubt.

It began as a tremor, barely felt,

a vibration in the cracked pavement of trust.

Whispers, small, venomous seeds dropped

into the thirsty soil of anxious ears.

They bloomed fast, those rumors,

a sudden, suffocating vine climbing every exterior wall, choking the sunlight from the public squares.

They spoke of shortage, of betrayal,

of a hidden bounty meant for some,

but never for you.

We were caught, all of us,

in the silken, invisible netting

spun from careful half-truths.

Each day, the threads tightened,

not with visible ropes, but with the weight

of what we suspected but couldn't prove.

They were connoisseurs of chaos,

sipping the bitter brew of our confusion,

finding a strange, sterile beauty

in the unraveling of community ties.