By: Matthew Wang

Desolate, ashen, barren landscape,
A supposed paradise, a mere fabrication,
An epoch of destruction, an era of death,
A leviathan of doom of our own creation

Inferno scourge, a swarm of vermin
Power hungry tyrants pulling the strings
A once bright future now desolate, lifeless
A shadow of the past, shattered wings

Yet we are told to believe in the future,
An ethereal light, a moment of valor,
A glimmer of hope to graze the horizon,
Something to live for, something to die for.

Yet this ephemeral light, a mere projection,
A tool to keep this dying world unwitting,
As we continue to pillage this haven of life,
We bring our own end, our futures foreboding.

Image Credit by by Lucas Pezeta