When hopes disappear and recriminations are leveled, one watches from the sidelines and notes those who have no clue.
Some with glee, others with fear, it’s like the terrible two’s acting out frustrations on their platform.
So I note their space as a future place to avoid. I’ve done this for years. My way may not be perfect, but who wants to watch grownups cry?
ChatGPT helped me with the following phrases.
The walls are closing, tight and near,
A rush of noise, too much to bear.
Thoughts collide in frantic dance,
Caught in a storm with no escape, no chance.
The air is thick, the room too small,
A heavy weight, a rising call.
Tears are poised, but won’t break free,
A trembling heart, a mind unbound, lost at sea.
A body shakes, the world spins round,
Trying to hold on, no support found.
Words are lost, the voice is gone,
Silence screams, but no one responds.
In the chaos, a desperate plea,
For just a moment’s peace, to breathe, to be.
But the meltdown roars, relentless, loud,
A shadow rising from within the cloud.
And in the dark, there’s no clear path,
Just the storm’s fury and aftermath.
Yet deep inside, there’s still a spark—
A quiet hope, somewhere in the dark.