I can feel the world,
stripping itself apart,
the soft paper mache of it's sanity,
being pulled apart to show,
the truth of this harsh world,


the generation before us,
tells us how easy we have it,
you, you didn't have wars,
hanging over your head, like dead weight,
you didn't have, the tripled problems,
why, why, did you leave this for me?


All I feel is horror,
a constant horror,
of what we can do,
of what we are capable of,


history is repeating itself,
over and over, we repeat,
the exact same mistakes,

no one sees, at least,
no one who has power,
they are too preoccupied,
with the petty worlds that they,
occupy,