Static

A poem that addresses topics such as the evil in the world, how it has made us numb, how society is manipulative, and many more, but only for a brief period of time.

Paranoia is riddled with confusion,

as if the world itself is just a delusion.

Its lies are eternal,

burning through us like a bullet passing through tin foil.

Our voices are lost forever within the static.

 

There is no paradise in pain,

no resolution in a bitter end,

for the world itself is sick and vain,

and my nerves are unwinding.

I remember nothing but the static.

 

I cannot feel anything anymore.

I have been made numb.

The world itself is a w***e. A w***e who crushes the good men,

who are seduced and then crushed under her thumb,

while I am forced to withstand her torture device, the static.

 

The evil in this world has been set free, and will flourish.

There is only a limited amount of things that we can do to stop it.

The raining of sorrow comes in torrents,

what a sick and twisted monument,

to those who were divided and destroyed, their souls and morality lost to the static.

Author's Note

I am open to any sort of criticism, harsh or otherwise. Criticism helps us grow and become better at what we do. If you have any questions about this poem, any of my other poems, or about me in general, feel free to ask.