Cries of anguish, screams of pain emanating from the torn people in their dirty hole ridden clothes could be heard above the loudspeaker of applause meant for the careful propagandists. Fights always broke out between individuals in perhaps the only act of singular freedom afforded - the conflict for survival. When the bread bits were thrown out across the crowd of the citizen serfs there were a few who attempted to extend their meager lives by a few more days by expending energy to tear the crumbly stale bits from other nameless dying scarecrows. Ours had become a duty to serve both employers who'd resorted to imposing a 20-hour workday and a government that had remained calcified with the same stern faces of evil just more aged with every year.
The helicopters finally came roaring over our heads bellowing blowing warnings of immediate dispersal. Every now and then a thump was heard, looking upon the faces nearby the terrified eyes could finally be detected. Sliding your gaze down, you'd see that a red crimson had erupted across the chest covering up dirty stains shaking in uncontrollable last quivers until still. In fact, each year the dirty stains had spilled on the very fabric of our country - we were now alone, completely forgotten in this time of hate.
Between the chopper roar and the loudspeaker screeching higher and higher to drown out the oozing pain of thousands one just became numb. Having experienced this heartless bug like scurrying existence until it became normal to live in an abnormal world gushing with 'selves' who ruled for the pleasure of the few you just became passive. How many hours had I spent in the 'scurry of adulation' required by every taskmaster whom we slaved. Just expose your face pitiful though it may be to the rulers while they paraded down the central square. Don't worry, at least they'd provide the canned applause (we'd become too undependable for hearty sounds in our depleted state even under threat of execution) - if lucky you might catch one of those bread bits, you might even survive the grab.
After draining our governments of resources for their corporate master's gluttonous addictions our 'body snatched' government representatives cut all spending on programs that benefited those who lived regular dull predictable lives - I think that was us. Why leave nothing but the husk of a government, it had outlived its purpose, illusion was no longer necessary in a world that had unmasked the business invaders who'd come from within.
Off to the barracks we were now marching in a rickety unison some dropping along the way only to be scooped up by the metal scrapers and dumped into the rusty metal crates dripping with a sticky gooey blood. Whatever happened we were all aware of the need to move faster when the command came blasting from above - undignified death was everywhere just waiting to extend its black gloved hand.
Shuffling, one foot grinding across the rocky road while the other painfully followed, barrack 102348 emerged from the gray black streaked air. Its rotten wood roof was symbolic of the decay that had gripped our government after the consciousness of the people had been extinguished upon an altar of greed. After choosing to stumble along in the gutter for another 8 years blindly following an executioner of dreams and essential programs nothing more could be gleaned from an emaciated government. An articulate brilliant carrier of the future was rejected for a white haired paragon of the past.
Now those in power faithfully pursued us down a path of destruction prodded along by their lust for absolute decadent satisfaction of every imagined vice. They'd let an evil host sink its fangs into their jugular to suck every drop of humanity from their agitated bodies - their souls had already wasted into the black soot filled sky. I remembered I'd once had hope now the constant cruelty left me cleansed with pain. It was a pain we all died remembering.