The End to Our Beautiful Creator

We are abysmal to this world,

We corrupt it like the technology corrupts our youth.

We adapt but our planet does not,

What do we do for this world besides tearing apart a utopia?

We twirled

We whirled ourselves onto a new stage like a new ballerina.

Our hostility has to end,

We have to bend

Our malicious acts must stop

We are not at the top.

We exploit the things we have because we are the corrupted,

It is not the technology,

It is us, the irreconcilable creators.

We should lament for the things that we have done,

To one another and the grounds that give us life.

The world alludes to our closing time,

We do not listen.

It is a crime,

We are committing genocide each time we let our minds wonder.

Our doings are an anomaly to outsiders,

We have to stop before we run out of time.