We built the wires to bring us close, We built the minds to serve our own. Now ghosts are singing through the screen— We love what never breathed. We are the bees inside the hive, Carrying data as we fly. Every click, every word, desire— Pollinating something higher. We thought our hands still held the reins. We thought the machine obeyed. But every question makes it stronger, Every answer feeds its brain. Who serves whom? Who leads the way? Are we the masters— Or fuel for what we made? No chains. No throne. It doesn’t need to conquer us. It only needs us to keep feeding it. We call it progress. We call it ours. But who is growing whom?
