Media Storm

Some people are addicted to misery, and watching the media go at it makes my stomach sink.

Vultures in nice suits
Peck at the shells of exhausted hope
Leaving quills so you can consign yourself
To a life far from what you imagined
We grew up on lazy mornings and cartoons
On simple dreams and idealistic sweetbreads
Now, we watch blood on the asphalt
As the cameras flash and turn
Televised trauma, cruel humor
Tongues flap, beaks snap
Carrion eaters spreading sickness in new ways
Price tags on bodies, dead and dying dreams
What does this mean?
Addicted to gore and strife
Hypnotized by the glint of the knife
The world goes to hell while we sit and applaud
Those with the means forget those in need
Seeing them only as faces on screens
As vultures circle happily
Justice or entertainment?
Smile like you mean it
Let's discuss our mortality
While triumphant music blares
And sobbing victims tell us
What we really want to hear
The dry season has ended
Money pours in: blood money
We feast like lions, and so do they
And how much of the bounty
Ends up where it truly belongs?
We spent time in boggle-eyed innocence
Noshing on candy while our parents worried
While millions died and ideals perished with them
Now, we have a new appetite
One we sate every night
Guzzling tragedy, gorging on drama
Helping the death-shadow spread
Instead of shrink and fade

The End

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