Poetry: Breaking News

Sometime there will come a day

when the rains stop and the deserts stay,

 

and you’ll  only be left wondering why

not a single tear leaks through your eye.

 

You’ll never have to know true despair,

nor true love, nor true care.

 

All that remains is melancholy madness

as you slowly slip into quiet passiveness.

 

When that day comes you’ll be forced to choose

between living a fighter who sometimes may lose,

 

and living a cynic, filled with apathy and lies,

one stone heart and two willingly blind eyes.

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