Instant Gratification
Constant exposure of
instant gratification,
that’s where we’ve drawn the line.
Where we are, where we’ve been;
then traveling further in time.
I'm keeping my composure.
I’m fine, I swear that I’m fine
while the world drowns in sin.
I’ll be fine if I keep it together,
if I’m sitting next to him.
Everywhere around me burns my eyes
and I’m considering if should cry.
Why would I care at all
if we’re all going to die?
This poem is about:
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: