𝙰 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚗
_________________________
In the rush media of con embrace,
Beneath the advert of a cosmetic face,
Beauty sings a cream's jingle tuned,
Hollow plastic faces perfumed.
The rose, in preservative, lies so deep,
Its petals in chemistry they try to keep.
Nature's false song, on YouTube sung,
Tales of paid dance, bollywood young.
Yet as durga puja on a phone call,
Mortality's shadow in floods over all.
And then, in the middle-east, fires burn,
In this urn, a future poison fern.
People don't care when not in their hair,
But this wound is deep and rare.
How can hate be accepted as fate?
How low can conscience be set?
Greed in deed in seed indeed,
Concentric the collapsing walls.
In just a few more days unravel,
This civilization inexorably falls.
In this dance of dogma, hate, cold creams,
Nightmares forever our lasting dreams.
