desensitized
The screen's cold light, a flickering, pale guide,
Shows scenes of chaos, strife, and brutal war.
At first, my heart would clench, my tears would ride,
A wave of grief for those who are no more.
But now, the images just blur and fade,
A distant hum, a story often told.
The shock, the horror, slowly start to degrade,
Leaving a space where feelings once took hold.
Is this the cost of living in this age,
Where every day brings tales of blood and pain?
To shield myself, I turn a blank new page,
And let the numbness wash across my brain.
Yet in this calm, a chilling thought takes root:
What monster grows from such desensitized fruit?
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