Old News

I’m rubbing at my eyes

Hoping I can rub

Away the world

And the images burned

Onto my pupils.

 

I don’t want to do this

Anymore.

The watching, knowing

That I play no part.

That my life amounts to

Nothing. (save for some

S****y lines and folders

Filled with photographs)

 

They keep telling us not to worry

That everything will be just fine.

But they’re lying.

 

They are lying.

 

And not the little lies

You tell your parents.

Big lies. That fill the ocean

With their toxic waste.

The kind of lies that are meant

To soothe the panic

For that much longer.

Because really

 

There was never any hope.

 

Still we’ll swallow

Their crooked lines

And hope

It’s not as bad as we fear.

 

 

This is a rant at

A world that puts crisis

In the second half

Of the paper

Because it’s old news.