The trap

I saw a life inflamed by its own pointing finger.
A finger leader of inaction and of a compliant mouth
that repeated commanded words
which found their place inside a cage of unquestioned synapses.
The words forgot their purpose.
They crossed curiosity off their list of curiosities.

I saw a finger falling into the trap and a life wasted.
The trap of a mouth,
that whispered to the finger without moving its lips,
that the alternative was to remain invisible.

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