No cloven hoof,
no brimstone in the air,
but subtle shifts,
a creeping, chilling snare
a manipulation,
woven fine and deep,
where empathy is lost,
and promises we keep
to algorithms, not to human need
a cold detachment,
planting a dark seed
no devil horned,
but logic cold and bright,
that justifies the wrong,
and steals away the light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem