I know the world is failing you. I can tell by the way you treat others.
Every day you wake up early and demand the world tells you how much it has failed you since you last went to sleep. You turn to the news folks and demand they tell you how little fish remains in your oceans. You turn to the influencers and demand a stock of the besmirchment they carry. “Tell us tales of your abuse (vindicate us!). We know you’re hurt (give us the details!). We know the world has failed you too.” You turn to your television and demand to be told how the rich are burning your forests, along with some of your friends.
The numbers comfort you. They prove, empirically, that this is not the world you deserve.
There is a void you could shout into. But you don’t. Because it doesn’t echo your pain. All it does is tell you that you are alone. Now and Forever.
I wish I could offer you what you’re looking for but there so little I know. There is just so little I have ever known. I have known Love. And, Music. Well, Love is Music. I have known Sex, Death, and God. I don’t know what comes first, and to be honest, I wouldn’t be able to tell you what comes last either.
Theatrical Poetry India 