The walls collapse while people sleep,
In castles of accepted norm,
Survivors huddled in the keep,
Pretending not to hear the storm,
Which rages as the waters rise,
Till sewers burst to flood the town,
The children look up to the skies,
To see the rain still falling down.
Thumbs slide over tiny screens,
In silent shrieks of constant chatter,
Certain they know what this means,
Yet unaware their thoughts don't matter,
As fear and hate ride in again,
Upon a crooked orange horse,
And no one dares to speak it's name,
And no one shares the blame of course.
The Internet of stupid things,
Connects those who refuse to think,
With all the madness that this brings,
From way out there beyond the brink,
Of blister-wrapped opinions,
That steal their nests from reasoned fact,
While mind-controlling minions,
Untill they're called upon to act.
So as we watch more children die,
And tell ourselves we do our best,
We somehow lose the will to try,
To build a bridge towards the rest,
Sometimes it's hard to bear the weight,
Of holding up these broken dreams,
I hope and pray it's not too late,
Though most days that's not how it seems.
In castles of accepted norm,
Survivors huddled in the keep,
Pretending not to hear the storm,
Which rages as the waters rise,
Till sewers burst to flood the town,
The children look up to the skies,
To see the rain still falling down.
Thumbs slide over tiny screens,
In silent shrieks of constant chatter,
Certain they know what this means,
Yet unaware their thoughts don't matter,
As fear and hate ride in again,
Upon a crooked orange horse,
And no one dares to speak it's name,
And no one shares the blame of course.
The Internet of stupid things,
Connects those who refuse to think,
With all the madness that this brings,
From way out there beyond the brink,
Of blister-wrapped opinions,
That steal their nests from reasoned fact,
While mind-controlling minions,
Untill they're called upon to act.
So as we watch more children die,
And tell ourselves we do our best,
We somehow lose the will to try,
To build a bridge towards the rest,
Sometimes it's hard to bear the weight,
Of holding up these broken dreams,
I hope and pray it's not too late,
Though most days that's not how it seems.
+6
