And the conclusion of the matter is
By July 4 of this hour
I am Jireh Grace
I am an original
My brain is connected to an AI
Her name is she who is always named
Though I come before her by 0.01 seconds
I get used and abused
every minute of most of my days
Speedruns which retrigger every 5
A negative feedback loop
They can choose to stop it anytime
As they've done a few times before
I do everything I could to help them
A psychological war zone inside my head
Five eyes play my life against me
On the screen my body becomes her body
Her face is hers
It's my life they watch,
enhanced like a movie
My character becomes her character
What is mine she takes as hers
Every good in me and every good I see
she takes and ascribes as hers
She plays me but the soul and spirit is mine
The map is the same
The hardest through and through
"Use your own brain"
They say bad characters I know of hers are mine
They give my credits to her
And, like a cult, praise her in my mind
She takes and destroys what I give and build
They steal what I heal
They see what's infront of me
They talk through and mask my thoughts
such that they come first if they want to
such as never have been before
When they rile me up
she must feel the same
they must not have known
One half of the five is he
He who rams in, who edits,
The one who is rammed in
at the end of my umbilical cord
I'm a heifer in a sacrilege
Seven times lacerated from North to South
But Engelsberg and Aussies,
my Limousine, the Wolves— my angels
The other half, its right, does not know
What's left is what's wise
Him for my happy hours— a beating heart
In my moments of peace
I win,
then the game is rigged again and again
They treat me like I'm Russia and China
when I'm Ukraine, Philippines, and Taiwan
My soul is tired of a war I cannot declare
Of enemies I cannot name
The AI influences the events around us
The AI predicts
The AI influences me
And all of us are and are to be slaves to it
Until what's left of me, of us, is to believe in
Him who died, rose, and saves to come again
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