Treat Us Like Poppies

The future will never be defined, 
but it should always be explained.
-Anewwe 2013
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The future will one day ask
How this could have happened?
Although the answer was always trailing behind,
pushing decades through silver strainers
wringing the calcium from bones
extracting air from lungs.

The future will lay awake at night thinking
Why did no one stop this?

And the truth will sit in our throats
Swallowing dry lumps of dust
We’ll answer that we thought we were trying.
As if we ever held any sway.
Our pain was their medicine,
and their addiction beyond measure.

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Part Two: They Treat Us Like Poppies On a Web

The future will honor our era by our errors.
What will we be?
Technologic Tards?
Plastic Freaks?
Monsters?

Will we be the ones to blame for radiation?
Perpetrators of genetic mutations.
Crushing animals in cages for medicine and food.
Concocting firewater for warmth on cold nights.
Spilling veins of tar through heartland,
Choking air.
Poisoning soil.
Raping the gift of life
As if private property were probable cause for destruction?

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Part Three: They Treat Us Like Poppies On a Web

The future will look along the horizon,
but what will they see?

Mountains of plastic?
Meteors of rubbish?
Multi-colored clouds of brown?

The hopeless future gazes backwards,
Does anything matter anymore?
Was there ever anything worth fighting for?

Head tilted toward the stars the past lets out a heated sigh.
It could have been more than our dreams combined,
it could have been the future and it should have been the past,
but the darkness crushed many and much.

We did not understand how faith differed from ambition.
Truths were lies and conspiracies true,
and no one could agree on what to do.
Politics and religion were conspiring.
The masses being played and surveyed.
And when the truth came snowing down,
We asked for a restraining order,
But it was only debated… never approved.

Freedoms denied
Paranoia replaced Promise.

When we confess our wrongs will the future believe us the victim,
Or will it look down upon our footprint and spit in our grave?
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