Self-Exile
Witnessing a low-key drift, a humble step back, a loosening grip from a severed connection. A manual shutdown of a soft kind of hell. Idle wisdom in weightless words, controlled comfort of a decision to dissolve. Unwinding rebellion, burying regret. The quiet luxury of not replying. After all that noise. Closing tabs to self-exile.
©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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