The poetry of despair is a fitting echo, but let’s not drown in the dirge just yet. The crowd you describe—beaten, broken, voiceless—isn’t just a passive victim; it’s an accomplice to its own undoing. They didn’t just watch; they cheered, they invested, they memed their way into this collapse. The “we” you invoke isn’t tragic—it’s complicit.

What have we done? We’ve traded agency for spectacle, governance for algorithms, and meaning for memes. The dead you mourn aren’t gone—they’re scrolling, refreshing, and buying the next lie. If there’s nothing we can do, it’s because we’ve chosen comfort over consequence.

So yes, “we are the dead,” but only because we’ve decided it’s easier than living with purpose.