Don't pat yourself on the back just Yet

After today, I thought everything was at
an end. The sky turned upside down
and the sun exploded against the core
of the Earth.

Though no one but I felt
the Earth cower in fear against
the rebelling universe. No,

we cannot tackle things
beyond our grasp, yet we always try.

The missing person poster
hanging in the hall
becomes ripped and thorn. Its stark
white corners turn a melancholy yellow
as it sits beneath a
classic layer of dust, silently
waiting against tear-stained cheeks.

Yet there is still a search party
for the dead, but devoid of any
sort of hope.

Knowledge is a
falling star, with hope
disintegrating afterwards.

Things never are supposed
to be cinematically perfect,
but never as bleak as a war trenches
filled with hundreds of rotting bodies
with screaming souls. The opposing

soldiers stole their identities
in an effort to kill the family. Clanking
metal against a masquerade
of devastation beats like a heart about to die.

It’s as a somnambulant
day in the hospital room as we stare
at the dying. The raspy voice
and suffocating tears are
barley audible to the human ear,
but Death hears it screaming
like a fallen hero and rushes
to create muteness in the solace of humanity.

We safeguard our values of
compassion as if they are of
some great importance-
but how can civilizations thrive

when the gods explode against our whorish necessities?