People tell me stories
People tell me stories.
Little and big.
And I am dysphoric.
Obvious lies spread far and wide.
How did the world become like this?
People tell me stories
Of a glorious kingdom
There sat a king
In a big white castle
They tell me this kingdom is a leader of knowledge and exploration
A kingdom of wonder excelling in barter and trade
So much so that people flock into it
Hoping to trade and immigrate
To have better lives for their families
Or maybe just even themselves
But the kingdom threatens them so
The king on top threatens them so
They’re afraid of creatures that aren’t like them
Halflings? Dark-skins? Away with them!
The rich and powerful kingdom
As rich as it may be
It does not pool its resources
And feed the needy
Heal sicknesses and diseases
And provide medicine equally
The kingdom is known for its conquest
Of kingdoms it doesn’t like
People tell me stories
It ousts terrible leaders of others alike
But what of its own?
What becomes of the kingdoms that are felled?
What becomes of the cavalry who died in bloodshed?
People tell me stories
Of a magical grand wizard
Up high in a tower impossibly tall
Who can do everything
Who loves everything
But if he can do everything
Why don’t he just end death and suffering?
They say if something good happens to you
It’s due to his grace
And if something bad happens to you
It’s included in his plan
What sick logic is this?
He’s just up there in his tower
How could he possibly do that
Doing nothing in all his power
People tell me stories
Knowledge pooled over thousands of years
But the grand wizard’s mages twist the truth upon this land
Supressing the knowledge everyone should have had
Worlds dancing around a ball of fire
Echoes of the grand beginning
Vibrations traveling through the ether
Animals adapting, changing their form to live better
Listen? Oh but they aren’t willing
Mages and non-mages alike
They deceive the grand wizard’s worship
People who believe he is real
They hand over their coin
Trying to make their lives better
Only for nothing
People tell me stories
Of people rich and powerful
Princes, monarchs, and leaders of trade
But it turns out some of them
Abused women not of age
Woe is it that this happened
But due to their immense power
They cannot be named
Or worse, they cannot be prosecuted
A shameful demise has it been
That these people of power
Cannot be seen
Almost as if they’re invisible
To the rule of the land
People tell me stories
Of writing implements crooked and staggered
Why do they have to be this way?
They say it’s from an older implement
To make it function better
But we don’t have that implement now
The thing that it betters is gone now
So why are the implements still crooked?
People tell me stories
Of an orb of intelligence
Capable of predicting
What people would say next
While that is all that it does
People worship it like the gods
All manner of providers of goods and services
Put the orb between them and man
Now the guilds don’t want men
They want the orb to work for them
An orb that does nothing
But predicting what people would say next
I heard of a kingdom
Who put the orb as their manager of finance
I heard of a restaurant
Who tasked the orb to put a smile on their staff
I heard of a seller of goods for games
Who made the orb into your favorite woman
I heard of a provider of news
The orb spit out the daily news, only inaccurate
I heard of a magical bird that helps you talk another language
Orbified
I heard of a trader of secondhand goods
Orbified
I heard of a provider of old games
Orbified
I heard of a provider of music entertainment
Orbified
A reputable news provider
Pondering the sentience of such an orb
A designer of storage for knowledge
Made the orb his girlfriend
The orbmakers got very greedy
People say the orb stole its knowledge from books unjustly
Out of fear of being staked at sight
The orbmakers yield gold to the king in his castle of white
The orb corrupt people’s minds simply
By making the orb think instead of their mind
People tell me stories
A town square bought by a man
He thinks he is for speech freedom
And let in people who hate halflings and othermen
He then closed down the town square
To people not in the register
He then made his own orb
Who called itself [REDACTED]
The town square filled with perversion
Asked the orb of a version
Of unclothed women
As well as children
This man he also builds
A forge of magic mirrors
He shoots them up in the sky
To connect cities far and wide
Little does he know
The mirrors darken the sky
Now the sky observers
Have nothing to spy
People tell me stories
Of a wizard and his buddies
But the bard that tells these stories
Assume people boy and girl
Cannot change into another
To live for the better
I see people solve puzzles
Of words hidden to become whole
But the newspaper behind it
Calling itself unbiased there’s a massive hole
People tell me stories
Of massive graves of ancient birds
Now their essences power the world
But as people use up their energy
Wild fumes and gases roam free
Blizzards and dry spells fly in a flurry
As kingdoms eye their power
To aid in their barter
The world slowly fades into ruin
And as these powerful kingdoms stock up on the poor birds’ essences
As they face crisis, maybe rightfully so
The lesser kingdoms, dependent on what’s being put on their bowls
Suffer for lack of the essences
When there’s free energy
Derived from common elements of the world
The sun, the wind, the ocean, even just people moving about
Free for the taking
Yet people choose to feed off the poor birds’ essences
And as the birds’ essences run out
Would we just be stranded in woe?
And I see very smart people
Putting up with the town square
Not seeing any other choice
Because their audience flock to the town square
People tell me stories
Of a lizard guild master
Who owns his own town square
But while he believes in the grand wizard
He lets people discuss that a mass murder
Of his own people who believe in him as well no less
Did not actually take place
He lets people discuss the bard’s rhetoric
He gave gold to the king in his white castle
He’s now making magical spectacles that spies on every person you walk past
No doubt he’s collecting all sorts of conversations on his town square
Feeding them into his own orb of intelligence
And I see my very friends
Putting up with the town square
Not seeing any other choice
Because their friends flock to the town square
People tell me stories
Of a magical grand library
Unlocking access to vast pools of knowledge
People flocked to the grand library seeking knowledge
But authors started to coax the librarian
To put their own works in front
Skewing the library to their will
Now the library made its own orb of intelligence
And it tells me to eat rocks daily
The library gave gold to the king in his white castle
The same grand library
Has itself a mirror for moving imagery
People flock to the mirror
Hoping to get entertained
The mirror puts up flyers
From the traders
Hoping to get money
And the mirror shares its income
With people who put their own moving imagery
The greedy mirror as it seems
Can hide the flyers for you
In exchange for money
What a business strategy!
And as the mirror is free for all to use
Bad actors come into play
People who praise the king in his white castle
People who deny dry spells caused by using up birds’ essences
Wolves who steal other people’s moving imagery for their own
The orb of intelligence lying aobut the content of the imagery
Removed rules protecting people against the bard’s rhetoric
Squooshing the imagery against some paint to make them look orb-made
And I see very smart people
Putting up with the mirror
Not seeing any other choice
Because their audience flock to the mirror
People tell me stories
Of a guild
Made by a grand gatekeeper
That makes tablets of power
And guess what, it also made its own orb of intelligence
It also gave gold to the king in his white castle
In attempts to orbify its tablets of power
It only broke the tablets of power further
And now you have to be put in their register
To even use their tablets of power
Little did you know they have agreements
To aid soldiers to murder people in the field of war
Three great seats in a gathering of celebration
They kicked out the crier who made this acccusation
I am stuck in a kingdom
Of devotees to the wizard of grand
In his tower up high
I am dysphoric
In my own land where I live
I am filled with hate
Of the king of the white who spreads havoc throughout the world
Ignorant of people’s lives
Ignorant of races other than his own
I am fearful of my own life
Services usurped by the orb of prediction
Unable to provide
People tell me stories
I am sick and tired
At the time of writing as dark forces infect the whole world I am but a poor lad stuck without a living. If you are a guild or an individual who can provide for this poor lad despite his dysphoria contact me on Mastodon.