The Messiah

The messiah
He keeps returning
All different forms
But ultimately the same


At first he came
In the form of flesh
Charismatic and fierce
All would listen and follow


Then he started shapeshifting
Written words
Telling tales you should believe
And never question


Technology did not stop
And the messiah shifted once more
A plasma screen
Moulding your thoughts to match others


However also this messiah
Has been pushed off to the side
Now we worship the small triangles
That fit our pockets and travels with us


The messiah never changed
The messiah grew with the times
And keeps us locked in
Among the flock of sheep's we are

About the author:

This poem is written by Pep, 2025