The authorities have a condition, a condition unknown to them that is slowly rotting away at their being, but unlike a skin disease which can be felt and is apparent, it is instead unrecognized, unable to be felt, and daily peeling away at their inner most fabric.
The day they realize this for themselves will be the day they realize that they are not in control, but this, they will never do. They hide, as if from their own shadow, not knowing that it is right beside them. The state lives to praise them, and the youth are nurtured under their shadow, but as distant parents, devoid of any affection to their children, they stand far away, only coming out into the light to give the masses a slight embrace whenever the children feel they are not hearing from daddy or mommy.
The friendly smiles, and the comforting words, they all fade by the next morning. What took place just the night before, becomes swallowed up by the expectations that they can't meet as soon as each citizen wakes up. They are left estranged from their surrounding heroes, who in just a moment become the new villains that must be publicly shunned. The bright future they once thought they would have, now becomes a cloudy, unsure mist of fear, confusion, dread, and suspicion.
Who is on their side? They ask from day to day. Who is our hero today? Who will be the villain we must fear tomorrow? Are they guiding us? Or are our fears guiding them? They shout, they scream, they hunger for more power, and the people, lost in their own bewilderment, cave in, succumb, and submit to their ever watchful masters.
They do not see the shackles, nor do they feel the blows, but yet slowly and more and more with meticulous precision, they remain chained, wounded, bruised, without seeing the black and blue marks that fill their lives with pain and sorrow. They begin to call out again, asking for more release from the pressure that presses them down, but all they give in return is more anguish. Unsettling, unnerving, unpredictable.