Trigger Me This

Calling Agent Smith

In the matrix of life, where truths intertwine,
A journey of awakening, both yours and mine.
With each insight gained, a light we switch,
Yet, in doing so, we seem to trigger a glitch.

Calling Agent Smith, from the shadows he springs,
In the hearts of those, our epiphanies sting.
Like code rewritten, they morph and shift,
A familiar script, the Agent’s gift.

We speak of love, of freedom, of breaking the chains,
Of seeing the world through unvarnished panes.
Yet, the moment we share, what we’ve come to discern,
Agent Smith awakens, ready to spurn.

He wears many faces, in strangers, in friends,
A sentinel of the status quo, on whom it depends.
With every trigger, a revelation, a sign,
That within them, the Agent does confine.

Trigger me this, why does the truth perturb?
Why does the light, their inner Smith disturb?
Is it fear of the unknown, or the comfort of the cage,
That makes them defend, makes them engage?

But this poem, this journey, isn’t just outward, it’s in,
For within u…