poem, poetry, ending, humanity

SAD TO THINK

can’t put
my finger on it

something seems
off

the wind feels odd
the TV
looks wrong

everyone I hear
feels that
the truth
must be hidden
cannot be
uttered at
all costs

the plot
has been lost
the record stuck

and those who
deny what we see with
our own
eyes

are believed

cannot put my
finger on it

seems like
the beginning of the end

we had
our run, had our time

self-destruct is
now on
override

sad to think what
we might have become
could have been