by Nick Gisburne
It hums and hovers, everywhere I go,
A silver skull, recording all I am,
A sentinel, its tiny eyes aglow,
My government-assigned surveillance cam.
I point my gun directly at the head,
And as it backs away I simply smile.
The beacon fixed below it flashes red,
My first infraction ticket for a while.
I wonder what they really want to see,
The people watching everything we do.
Whoever signed the Vigilance Decree
Was paranoid and petty, through and through.
They tell us we are safe when we are seen,
But danger hides in sight, in this machine.
