The world claims that it has too many writers,
But not enough scientists.
Everyone can be a writer,
But not everyone a scientist.
So cynical.

Now everyone is a scientist,
No one writes anymore,
No one cares to,
No one but I.
You’d think the world needs more writers,
Now more than ever.
So naïve.

The truth is,
The world only has room for science and progress,
Machine guns and machine men,
With machine hearts.
There is no space,
For poetry and love.
This is no place,
For us.