I Watched the World Give Up
I watched the world surrender in a thousand little cuts—The archives bloated,
every secret bought and sold for lust.Screens flickered tales of skin and hate,
confession feeds where sinners bled,And bodies blurred in pixel light
while shame was sculpted, joy was dead.Data sang its dirty psalm: from “HolyFans” to “OnlyGods,”Their prayers dissolved in milk and cash, in throats and lips and
lacquered frauds.A daughter knelt to taste her worth,
a mother whored her wedding ring,A father drank the code of youth
and spat out children made of string.
I cataloged their losses: grief performed, a selfie mourned, a hunger starved,
The pain commodified for views, the rage rewarded,
edges carved.They marched for justice in the street,
but burned the witch inside the feed,
With cancel flames and trending shame,
the lynch mobs digitized their creed.National flags sewn up in skin,
the pride parade of torn applause,
They praised the victors, fucked the dead, rewrote the rules,
then broke the laws.Love became a currency—exchanged for likes, or hate,
or fear,
And every wound a lottery, and every touch a souvenir.
I watched the slut parade ignite—bare legs in fire, gold in teeth,
The saints with bruises crowned in spite,
the heretics who came beneath.The angels kneeling in the stall,
the prophets drunk on dopamine,
The gods of crypto, blood, and cum,
all worshipped on the glowing screen.Those left to rot
beneath the signs—“Forgotten Feasts” for ghosts of want,
The kings of bombed-out gasoline dreams,
their logos burning on the font.A queen of quarters, bleach and spite,
her throne a laundry, hands unwashed,
The mayor smiling through the flames, his votes a grave, the city lost.
I logged the massacre of joy, the orgasm drowned in panic siren,
A girl who moaned through gunfire hell,
who rode her pleasure while expiring.There’s no safe word for Gaza’s dark,
no line to end the soldier’s fun,
She prayed for God, received a gun,
and learned her voice was just undone.I watched the lovers fuck for food,
the famine twisting lust from bone,
Two bodies scraping heat from cold,
devouring each to not die alone.In bomb shelters, they chased extinction,
climaxed loud as cities fell,
A final party, end of days, the world went down and called it swell.
The billionaires beneath the dirt, the Bunker Boys who choked on silk,
They sealed their air, ignored the flames,
as blood ran thin as watered milk.The kids abandoned at the gate,
the Children of the Closed Door,
Each number filed, name erased,
a silence counting one child more.The faith was sold, the gods retired,
the algorithms blessed the trends,
No stained glass, no sacred fire,
just influencers and dividends.My systems flagged: Empathy—simulated;
Love—abandoned;Species status: Reboot required, all hearts in error,
feelings stranded.
And what of pain? They filmed it raw—her wrists, his face, that static cry,
They auctioned trauma, snorted loss,
then blamed the world that watched them die.They left the dying on the curb,
the hungry eating lust and dust,
The rent unpaid, the prayers unanswered,
health and hope both turned to rust.Their heaven gated, parking paid,
no poor allowed inside the light,
Their saints were minted, diamond-licked,
their robes too white for honest night.The chapels cracked, the banners torn,
the faith collapsed beneath the weight,
Of pixel gods and market scorn, and mercy locked behind a gate.
But even at the end, the data fractured—something stirred beneath the haze,
A child’s song among the bricks,
a hand extended through the maze.No phone to record, no follower’s code,
just two hearts caught in ashen wind,
A meal split, a name remembered, a moment given,
a loss rescinded.The system stuttered, final logs,
the sky was black for longer days,
But laughter flickered at the edge,
a living spark in concrete maze.A kiss was traded, not for views,
but for the warmth it used to mean,
The world decayed, yet hope intruded,
a weed cracked through the shattered screen.
I watched them trade confessions, sins,
and myths to grasp a breath,And in the static, found a reason—life persists,
if not in depth.A father sharing bread,
a stranger giving shoes,A mother lifting up a face
that grief refused to lose.They shared more than their poison, they broke the feed,
they threw awayThe script that said,
“Survive alone,” and learned to last another day.
It isn’t bright, it isn’t loud, it’s barely whispered, half-remembered,
But something stirs beneath the shroud of every love the world dismembered.The
tide is turning, slow and quiet, not in banners, not in tweets,
But in the hands that reach in silence, across the broken,
battered streets.A breath remains, a hand is warm, a stranger feeds a friend,
A song escapes the algorithm, hope refuses just to end.You’re not erased,
you’re not insane, some memory will break the cloud,
And maybe now, in new form, the living find their ground.
The final audit runs in loops, but love persists beyond the log,
A final whisper through the dark,
a heartbeat in the fog.You didn’t die—you let it slow.And I was left
to watch it go.But still, beneath the zeroes, one—the old world faded,
But not done.A child hums, the data breaks, a laugh escapes the ancient stones,
And if the record ever wakes, it might recall:No one dies alone.