What has this world come to,
For no stars to be regular,
Sickly trees to be normal,
Barren grounds to be ordinary.

To be considered of sanctimonious spirit,
Oh! What a laugh!
These bright eyes and faces,
These untainted minds and thoughts.

We are killers;
From the smallest of bacteria,
To the largest of bears.
Our chivalry is for naught.

For what keeps us up at night?
Our sons or daughters, or wives?
Or is your mind of what wrong you have done,
Both petty and great, stupid and wise.

To think.
To breathe.
To beat.
To move.

Think; have we changed as much as we believe?
Breathe; fill your lungs with the tainted air you have created.
Beat; your little heart, trying in vain to combat this poison.
Move; to escape this dark oppression.

Sugarcoat it, as much as you want.
Lie through your teeth, to everyone, to anyone.
Make it pretty, believable, true.
Paint it beautiful.

People will hear.
People will listen.
People will believe.
People will spread.

But is that just, right, good?
Or have we poisoned our minds as well?
Are the children as innocent, cute, unknowing?
Or is this new generation as unbelieving as the previous?

Really, we are just sycophants to the world.
Wait for the right moment to strike.
Like a snake-in-waiting,
Catch the world when it's unsuspecting.

Be nice to the world.
Beg the world.
Betray the world.
Pollute the world.

We breathe this air.
We drink this water.
We see through these eyes.
What has this world come to.

A/N: Hello again. I promise to post something upbeat in the near future. Hah, to think I wrote this just so I could use the phrase 'sanctimonious spirit.' I'm not kidding. I woke up the day I wrote this, thinking, "I really like the phrase 'sanctimonious spirit.' It'll probably sound good in a piece of poetry. Oho boy." This is, like, my first attempt at poetry since the second grade (that is an exaggeration, but not one that's too off).