NaPoWriMo Day 8

Mud

Crashland twenty one nine on the darkest timeline trying to change course

With my waistband hid by my waistline, this is where I place my blame on the source

This is where I place my blame on an unfair plain, or a sloping playing field

Where faults of our own get lost and disowned by a smug self certified shield

Destruction’s been done, the villain’s have won, the gavel’s gone down in assurance

Yet boredom has caused apathetic yawns, blurring the chords of importance

Trivia brings in tears to the eye while genocide tries to tease out a sigh 

Warmth is saccharine, kindness is crass while vanity reigns and rakes in the cash

Human contact, eyes or skin, defeated by machines of sin

And those who pray, the prey of hate, at least found ways to meditate

At least take time away from days to close them from this world insane

And we place blame no self-restraint, no virtue, will nor love

Deny once more we were not shoved in this dystopian mud

We crafted, tinkered, framed and shelved

We welcomed it upon ourselves 

We screamed our insincerest yells 

Whilst dancing in the flood


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