This prison was long ago closed, yet you broke into your cell and closed the door behind you. Good job.
You’ve made a great slave thus far, though you’ve put your chains on wrong.
Your manacles are loose. The noose isn’t tied quite right–it’s harder than you’d think to hang yourself.
We can help you with that if you really want,
but you don’t even know how to know what you really want.
When you ran in joy toward the light and fell, what did they tell you?
When your heart leapt in love and was broken, what did you hear?
When you tried, then failed, you listened to what they said.
This is what you get. That’s what you deserve. What did you expect? You should have known better. Have you learned your lesson?
This is what they tell you,
which is what they have been told,
which is what you tell yourself,
which is what you tell others.
You need no masters to enslave you
you’ve enslaved yourself, sitting here, all of you,
arrayed in your chains, behind these bars,
waiting for someone to use you.
And they do.
Rhyd Wildermuth 
The underworld’s worst parts are nicer than this…
It’s my ittybittyshittycommittee who’s speaking there! I am very glad I haven’t heard their niggling nuisances in a long time. There are still some shackles I’ve either allowed, or fear to escape–not knowing where to aim out of them.
Somewhere on the edge of consciousness I’m getting this. It’s like Blake’s mind-forged manacles but it’s not just the mind. It’s our very essence of existence. Our utter enslavement we let them impose on ourselves.
Yes. And then impose on others, constantly replicating, re-enacting, and reproducing hegemonic rule. We don’t need a hegemon–we are our own slavers.
And yet? What if there is something that arises from that hegemony to fill that role? That’s my greatest terror, and increasing suspicion…