by Rudis Bello
This is a short, simple, and stupid little poem. Still, it was fun to write.
In a land of howling winds.
A hero is born to save the world again,
Destined for fire,
Hailing from the Spire.
This came most likely from a liar.
In this world there is no fantasy.
It is only what you can see.
Many people are held by desire,
Of something they can’t acquire.
Cursing their parents,
For something not apparent.
Dying as they lived.
Because they were contentedly deprived,
Of their time, now instead,
Of families cheering they sulk in dread.
All because someone incoherently ended their life,
Craving the spice,
That made their desire.
They used it to get higher
So they won’t see rock bottom.
Even their families claim they have a problem
These people live in a fantasy,
Which many of you would agree it’s a calamity
Sadly the youth is subsumed to this slum
So I need you to show them what their life has become
Remind them of their mortality,
Because you only get one life in this fantasy.