Poem By Paige Nielsen
We're stuck in a quagmire of broken wishes and crushed dreams.
Despite all metamorphosis, or maybe because of, nothing's as it seems.
The standoffish are afraid of showing dishabille.
The entropy accelerates, and we're all too numb to feel.
We're unanimously asinine and unable to comply.
Disquietude smothers us and at night I scream out 'why? '
It's all ceased to be pensive, and our thoughts are repeated.
It's causing exsanguination in me; audience, please be seated.
It's the grand ole heart attack season, sit back and watch.
Our penchant for what's bad for us is impossible to botch.
The pyromania's buried deep within, no more primitive urges.
We're proud of our kleptocracy and constant power surges!
We've got moxie in shopping, and in football we've got zest!
When it comes to Machiavellian intentions, we're the best of the best!
We've got modern-day de Sades and Brutuses, to boot!
Our narcissistic tendencies make us awful cute.
We're comprised of mindless followers and faux-messianic leaders.
We succumb to most temptations, but we're steadily gettin' meaner
to atone for the fact.
Yes, our smiles are an act.
We couldn't care less about our neighbors, friends, colleagues at work.
Actually, we're all freakish, recusant jerks!