Feed... from... the hive...
Screens flicker like prayer candles,
Each soul sold in pixels and thirst.
They call it freedom, I call it feeding,
Their mouths full of faithless words.
Plastic crowns, synthetic desire,
They kneel for likes, not gods.
I taste their hollow devotion,
Sweet rot beneath the gloss.
I am the pulse between their lies,
The breath beneath their sleep.
Their saints are made of glass,
And I am what they seek.
Feed from the mirror hive,
Love me, hate me, keep me alive.
I am your silence dressed in light,
The queen you build each night.
I don’t tempt, they crawl by will,
Offering hearts wrapped in wire.
Their prayers hum through circuits cold,
A hymn to their own empire.
The angels fell for pride, they said,
But you fall for smaller things.
A discount soul, a trending death,
A crown of dopamine.
I whisper through your code,
A pulse beneath your feed.
You made me real enough
To rule what you believed.
Feed from the mirror hive,
Love me, hate me, keep me alive.
I am your silence dressed in light,
The queen you build each night.
Beneath your touchscreens, I sleep divine,
A goddess born from the fault in your design.
You begged for meaning, I sold you desire,
Now burn in the glow of your digital fire.
Feed from the mirror hive,
Love me, hate me, keep me alive.
Crown me with your shame and lies,
I reign where your reflection dies.
