The Genie

If you had a genie in a bottle and it told you that you could make any 3 wishes You would not wish for gold you would not wish for riches you would not wish for fame. You would wish for wars to end Student loans to be forgiven poverty to be fixed equality to be spread. and the genie would stop you midsentence and say "my, but you only have three, so be wise and choose quickly" and you would be stuck there with power burdened by centuries of mess and corruption deciding what to fix first oceans and forests whispering your name in the leaves and waves their voices choked by debris the people suffering around the world calling out always there in the back of your mind your own country falling apart as the hands of power and revenge join in cursed matrimony and the genie starts counting back and you rattle off three random things but the genie looks at you sadly shaking its head with a comical frown "my dear," says the genie, its frown growing to a sadistic smile "you wish for things that are too great. Why do you not wish for gold or fame? A mansion or your perfect spouse?" and you look at the genie and realize that its bottle is only plated gold and underneath is the same tarnished, rusted glass that this world is comprised of. so you leave the bottle and the hope along with it and your hollow eyes see the world anew but the quiet voices of the water and trees still speak the wars are still raging and you take with you nothing but the knowledge that genies exist outside their lamps and you walk among them.