Plastic People Poem by DM W

Hopelessly distracted by infantile joys,
The plastic ones continue to play with their toys.
They see crude profit in every coded season.
They prefer pleasure's warmth; rather than cold reason.
They dwell in realms of sentimental emotion.
Their plastic brains are empty of profound notions.
Hysterical reactions, rather than measured
Responses, are their forte. They fill me with dread!
O they fear the inner freedom to truly be!
That's why they hate all those who resist their fake dreams.
They don't wish to face the darkness that surrounds them.
They go around in circles; again and again.