poem for the world we’ve created

 this is actually an older poem,

because this shit never changes......

boy

leaves the

house for the

last time the shooter or

the victim the pain or

the self-pity and

after a while

there is no more sense of shock and

                        there is no more sense of

                                                            outrage

 

there is nothing but a monochrome

future filled with more of the same

 

a neverending supply of drugs

to blot out the sun

 

mad dogs in their infinite wisdom

chewing up the hearts of all

the pretty corpses