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.