A short poem depicting a dystopian society.

Do you remember when the nightmare began?
When humanity watched it's own reflection blink?
The monster wasn't under our beds, or in our closets.
It was much closer. But we felt safe. Unstoppable.
It was always within our shell of desire to create,
But with it came destruction, as is the natural order of things.
Day follows night as life follows death,
But man became machine, and it all turned to hell.
Creation and destruction purged their rot,
Intertwining and becoming only damnation.
We lived in graveyards with the audacity to call them cities,
We preached peace by the blind divine judgement of a rifle.
Every coin, every note, every bill, doused and drenched in blood.
There was no remorse for the bludgeoned stillborn,
The starved, the blind, the mother,
Swaying gently from a girder soon into a grinder.
We drowned the sound of screaming children with corporations,
Not a drop of blood spilt as we choked them with scapegoats and excuses.
We became greed, consumed by vanity,
We played a requiem but only for our sanity.
Our reflection laughed, it laughed like a thousand hellbound demons,
While our shadow of weak and starving cowered in fear.
The monster was never under the bed.
When Pandora opened the box, there was no hope.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed