The land of milk and honey
gone with the extinction
of the bee
and the rise
of the fist of hate and greed

the kindness of strangers
became a myth
only found in pages
along stories of unicorns
nothing good was left
in the rotting corpse
that once housed
the heart of man

no blood
no glory
just wires and gears
spinning pointlessly
to keep the dollar alive
and the poor poor

war was a constant
grief and misery
replaced the inhale and exhale
no need for air in our lungs
no sign of life in our eyes

our pulse replaced
by the tick of the clock
grinding our bones
for nothing of matter
just pennies drowning
in the polluted waters
of dead dreams

shapeless clouds
in the sky absent of hope
corporate logos
lined their pockets
with politicians on strings

humanity buried under
slogans and clichés
the dead feared the living
and the living
couldn’t be told apart
from the dead

the gods shed a tear
and asked the stars
for forgiveness
but the stars
could no longer
bare to watch
what we had become

monsters crawled
from under the beds
and out of closets and attics
and left the earth behind
not wanting a part
in the horror story
we had penned

and we were left alone
no monsters to blame
no gods to pray to
no stars to look over us

alone in our filth
building tiny caskets
for the honey bee
drinking spoiled milk
puppets under the fist
of hate and greed