The Fall Of This Generation

A poem I wrote while contemplating how the world around me works:

The fall of this generation

will come swiftly as the wind.

The destruction of human souls,

not from outside but within.

The eyes attempt to see the things

that we weren't meant to see.

Callous espionage, betrayal, deceit;

in the name of curiosity.

Oh, the irony of turning to trust

only the things in sight;

but failing to see the things that kill

are the things that bring delight.

The ears, they fool us, they make us think

that just because we listen,

we know more than those before us,

our obstinate nature hastens.

The experience of those who came before us

counts for nothing here,

For good is the advice we glean for ourselves

as the ones that fall on deaf ears.

The tongue, the greatest tool of evil,

bestowed upon our kind.

But woe to us, the words we say,

it has enslaved our mind.

For the glamour of speech has blurred the glimpse

of the knives that we have sheathed.

The bark is often worse than bite,

When the lies lie near the teeth.

The hands have made us capable,

for the wrong reasons it seems.

They have learnt to work on their own,

instead of in a team.

Worse still, the hands are idle,

unmoved in the face of need.

How contrived activism may be

when a movement mistaken for a deed.

The fall of this generation

hastens by the day

It obsesses with temporal gain

than the truth, the light, the way.

We think we know better:

We got morals, skills and goals

In the end, the harsh truth is that

nothing lasts, not one bit at all...

Not in this fallen world.