I long for the future,
but the future thinks not,
for the future desires only
to betray and delay expectations
and youthful desires.
It relishes in disappointing
its once promising appearance.
Or perhaps my hatred is misplaced
and the blame isn’t on the future itself
but the people within:
a list of names whose hearts
are made of gunpowder and minds
think only to pull triggers and press buttons,
because that is the future we are given;
an execution of human rights.