A Poem - What is real?

PC machines sterilize and neutralize, vindictive we call it cleaning
Thick tendrils suffocate and isolate, squeezing no breathing no meaning
Virtue halos hang upon our heads, appalling we're devolving
We're calling we're calling

This world will knock us down, spin us around
Turns our hearts inside out
We're falling

Darkest dreams and despair converging, future submerging
Shadows dancing on the wall, projected from our own fall
Are they real?
Keep asking, keep tasking, keep masking
What is real?

@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Poet, & Lover