Bit Rot

The indignity of data
In the hands of the ruthless
Enforcers of venality,

To say nothing of the ruthless
Enforcers of authority,
Will only be mitigated

By accelerating decay—
Cold comfort for the swindled, conned,
Manipulated, and hounded.

All the ordinary writing
And record keeping that’s been lost
Since the Sumerians kept track

Hardly helps the long-dead farmers,
Insolent slaves, failed shopkeepers,
And debtors the priests hunted down.

A bit of a race, in the end,
Between your flesh and your records,
Which can evaporate faster.