Sonnet 4: Conscienceless Engineers
God repay the conscienceless engineers
For the pure sweet hearts with which they gamble
Seek not their greed which monetizes fears
And goads minds like picadores goad bulls.
They don't seem to stop and wonder "Should I,"
Unless the "should" could threaten the bottom line,
Until that line becomes their only why
And they call conscience just a Luddite whine.
Oh, how easy, on them, to pin the blame.
For they would not be "they" without users
So vulnerable to weaponized shame
And words from anonymous accusers.
They could not act so low were we not vain,
Don't let them choose what is true, what is sane.
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