Birth of Blues
It still rose filled the rooms cast its shadows. Once, in golden hour the light changed— optimized for blue rays of efficiency and function. One sharp morning you jammed through a productivity tune— unflinched, unfiltered, unreal. It became your blues without hues— unsaturated. The horizon stayed unbothered. ©Samia Oldman
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CONTEXT
You are reading dystopian fantasy poetry collection the Hush Halo. After the Great Optimization a privileged group of people wired themselves tightly into the system by aligning with it and fully integrating. Systoics believe they’ve perfected themselves by stripping away everything that slows them down.
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