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Planned Obsolescence
February 21, 2021
Remain.
Do not look far into
the chemical fog of ashen cinder
This haze tarnished
We are the storm.
One stale gasp,
hold onto a withering past
We will not collapse.
Deeper in
the hidden devastation
A chorus of streaming notes.
An organ thumping a discordant chord
Watch the mortal reality
Scarred and stained
A process repeated
Clinging to possession
Crumbles in discarded excess.
We breathe only out of habit.
And yet we have this, this
organ that we take for granted.
Hold onto this for the end of time.
© Vivian W., Lansdale, Pennsylvania
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I am 15 years old and have been writing poetry and other works of fiction since I was 7, with a particular love for fantasy.