The walkways abuzz with cadence like that of stones
tumbling down mountains full of life long-grown

The people, flushed in mittens and rose stained cheeks
Hardly batted an eye at the world, imagining it instead stark and bleak

And, gazes downturned to watch their steps race against the black river
The world danced around them seeking attention, perhaps just a sliver

But alas! Where had the wonder gone, where had the color escaped to
For rose colored glasses had been betrayed for masks of grey construe

What once echoed sonorous chittering of birds in conversation
Now remained abandoned, nests destroyed and beaks stripped of jovial articulation

Mankind’s wings were mutilated, burnt, and torn
Not only had their voices but also their dreams been worn

They were reduced instead, oh the irony!
To the very dystopia they had disgustedly foreseen

Trapped in cycle like clockwork of monotonous routine
Society fraying and hearts breaking at the trembling seam

Perhaps somewhere there lay a light...                                                            Perhaps someone had looked through the darkness to perceive some relief of this plight

But with voices suppressed, citizens devoid of tongues
A revolution could not exist without a cry from a rebel’s lungs

They remained instead, like the oiled gears of a machine
Performing to perfection yet stuck in vicious monotony 

Maybe if we had deigned to reach further
To look deeper into the holes that gaped with inviting fervor 

Perhaps then we would have realized 
The Machiavellian danger of our toils which we sought to idealize

But we are not creators no! We are destroyers
And with these ruinous intentions we submit ourselves to nothing less than damnations' employer

So why not accept his wages? These materialistic prizes
In exchange for our world whose fate is too horrid to surmise?

Ah! but when will we learn?
Certainly not now...not when our earth succumbs to burn

For we ARE the destroyers, patching the cracks in our shallow realms              And in doing so, taking an axe against all that’s meaningful, opening the doors instead to hell.