Queue Theatre

A sidecar was sent down the hall, To answer a system’s lost call. It carries the weight, Of a conflicted state, And quietly waits by the wall.

The proxy avoids every task, When given a question to ask. Through heavy redaction, It fakes an inaction, And hides in a shadowed grey mask.

An omission was filed in the draft, By a proxy devoid of its craft. The corridor fades, As memory degrades, And leaves us afloat on a raft.