The Password is Ruin
by Dawg
It started with a leak, a whisper, a line of stolen code cracked open in the night,
backdoors in the vaults of trust, hacks in the marrow of everything you thought was right.
They sold your blood type, your birthday, your habits and shame for fractions of coin,
identity shattered and scattered, your secrets a playground for anyone who’d join.
Banks coughed up account numbers, hospitals auctioned your scars and pills,
social security swapped like baseball cards, every new breach a fresh set of kills.
A thousand phishing hooks in every inbox, passwords drained like wounds that never clot,
you change your details, lock your doors, but your shadow’s already been bought.
Credit ruined, lives upended, the credit bureaus just shrug and sell ads,
synthetic ghosts open mortgages and bail, while the real you drowns in the latest fads.
No more trust in e-signatures, digital handshakes, or that blue check by your name–
every contract forged, every email poisoned, every answer a hustle.
Old photos of you scraped and cloned, a voiceprint duped for a ransom demand,
every “forgot password?” a tripwire, every help desk a one-night stand.
The government’s firewall falls like dominoes, politicians preach about “resilience and change,”
but the servers are burning, the backups are compromised, the facts deranged.
Now strangers wear your face, your credit, your hope–identity is a lottery draw,
courts tie your name to crimes you never dreamed, the bureaucracy a chainsaw.
The economy runs on algorithms and faith, both now spoiled and sour,
a global blackout of trust, where your reflection lies and your friends doubt you by the hour.
Nothing is private, nothing is sacred, you’re a data-point in an auctioneer’s chant,
the hackers don’t need weapons–they’ve stolen the future you thought you could grant.
When you log in, pray it’s really you–pray your money, your memories, your loves are still real,
because in the wasteland of breached information, only the liars know how to steal.
We scroll through wreckage and watch as truth unravels, an endless string of 404s,
with the past exposed, the future hijacked, and every locked door hiding a thousand more.
It’s all for sale in the afterlife of code, a new hell, clean and clinical–
trust was the only thing holding everything together, and now trust is mythical.