Is it the fear of age?

Or, the anecdotes of preceding ages

That acts as a catalyst

Maybe too many voices

Barely explained

But too many perceptions and opinions

A family of uneasy questions

Trying to suppress reason with rage

Branches are too feeble

To set foot on them is precarious

Of which roots are feeble

They rarely have the passion

Entangled in persistent dilemma

Knowledge of the eyes

Rarely satiate the soul

Insensitive and obstinate

A vicious cycle of artificial ecosystem

Easy information

Opinions have become stale

An environment of botheration

Aberrations and turmoil

We have names for each other

Discourteous feelings yell

To reprimand and dominate

Battles within destroy life

Such conflicts are enforced

Burning lands do not enlighten

Modest returns of evil

Not glory or existence

It’s also not the ages


One thought on “Bleakness

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