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Poem

No tears, no self-harm
No casting aside of ideals
That World of Magic existed
And was slain before me

Time marches inexorably
And the arms race of tech does so at a sprint
Born on the cusp of change
I was promised a world that would not survive

How strange it feels
And how universal it must seem
For a time period to seem so mystical
When it isn't yet old enough to drink

Shatter, heal, shatter again
The hesitant world that replaced mine
Was marred again by the specter of plague
A death at a funeral that I could barely begin to mourn

It's become unfortunately easy to gaslight myself
To insist that nothing has changed but my perspective
And in a sense, it's partially true
Peeking behind the curtain to reveal the boring truth

Why did things something suck?
Rushed to completion by a sentient cloud of smoke
Barking stupid orders to keep endless green stacked
When the only thing truly infinite is cancer

Thus I watched as the leaves changed in summer
Rushed to completion by a uncaring cloud of smoke
As magic became corporate and sold back to me
Learning to code simply to see the binary

The brilliant orange of autumn gave way to gray
Not the brilliant vitality filled white of winter
But the pale gray of sapped energy
As Mother Earth's bounty is reaped before she can heal

Flashes of magic still exist and sparks
Bewildering and beautiful to the babies raised on gloom
As a curiosity of a bygone era
Rather than the brilliant greens and blues of a healthy globe

That world did exist
And I got to watch it die twice
As more and more clouds of bitter choking smoke
Pry my eyes open as they do it again and again

Where do we go from here?
And can we even care?
How many ends will appear?
God have mercy.

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