Needless Things: Masters of Manipulation
They move in silence, cloaked in smoke and gleam, Mages of matter, weavers of the dream. They twist the fabric — bend the bones of space, And laugh behind their calm, unblinking face.
Their hands unseen, but always at the thread, They raise the living, dance the hollow dead. Each thought you thought was yours — it never was. Each choice you made obeyed a hidden because.
You speak in tongues they taught you not to know, You walk the path they paved a lifetime ago. Illusions fall like ash upon your sweating skin, But still you smile, believing that you can win.
Their fingers itch in lattices of smoke filled air, They pull your rage, your joy, and every last despair. Your love, your grief — all by preordained design, A marionette convinced he controlled by his mind.
Beneath the veil of matter, time, and dust, They sculpt the world with calm and cruel trust. We drink their truth, call it our own “destiny,” But all we are is what they've allowed us to be.
The laws you learn — they wrote them in the dark. The fire you fear — they forged the very spark. And if you scream, they only smile and nod, For even pain obeys their sacred secret God.
You cry for freedom, claw against your fate, But strings are tight — and oh, it’s far too late. They pull, you dance. You kneel, then rise, its no use to try, Living in a world of twisted illusion drowning in their lies. NNN