“…good afternoon, good evening, and good night”

Computerized terrarium
serving as reality’s charade,
it was a cinematic shade of Well’s 1984,
where big brother is a sitcom director
broadcasting a tailored life
all for the sake of eyes
living in their own deadness.

A player in ignorance awakens
to the sudden sense of fact,
this cultivated and crafted stage
is a twisted bureaucratic satire.

Fears masterfully manipulated
in their web of control,
subtly conveying that theme
of what is the ultimate governmental utopia.

Message delivered in the vignettes
of orchestrated intentions,
there is no actual sense of fulfillment
where freedom and truth are masked,
and in that final pivotal point of epiphany
the heart chooses to exit
any haven where liberty is an illusion
for there will never be an end
to the hunger for honesty
even when it means sacrifice of a comfort,
which is really a prison,
as Truman’s reborn character
utters his decision with a parting,
“…good afternoon, good evening, and good night,”
stepping through a door existing in the head.