Order Controls us Like Machines

[Bjornnesss]

Can I have feedback on this poem.

Order controls us like machines
Labor tolls us till we bleed

Shielded from the real world by screens
Their widgets of pain is all we need to see
To keep us from reality

When they silence the ones who scream
They say they were fixing the seams

But we are not dull
We know they’re lulls
Thus we shall raise our fists
And resist.

[YesNo]

I liked all the rhyming sounds. I don't understand the "widgets of pain" that keep us from reality, nor "fixing the seams", nor what being a "lull" means, but I can sort of guess what all this means.

[tailor STATELY]

In general L1 is an over-reach for me. I haven't enough context to fathom further. Is this the subtext of a dystopian system?

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY