When the world ends, won’t it be another day?
Waking up to a shining blur in my eyes
as I venture into a building, to be churned and kneaded
til I’m numb and left to serve an apathetic organization
and a CEO somewhere who flaunts his wealth
and promises a change he’ll never bring.
Heading home alone after a temporary eternity
with a goal unfinished and a life
as something other than a corporate slave to be desired.
The same as always.
Is that how the world ends?
Instead of ending like the past, maybe it could end like a dream?
I will be collecting crystals and manifesting more joy than ever
cherishing all my possessions, both material and emotional.
I will be crying and screaming and venting all my anxieties into a void,
no soul in sight to tell.
I will be cheering, embracing and loving everything about me,
my melanin, my queerness, and my femininity.
I will be resting in a lavish home that is not my own,
munching on every snack I like in every corner store and every Giant in sight.
I will be laughing, raging and flaming as I and the pleasant people play Uno,
accepting our losses and our victories.
Oh, to end so beautifully truly is a dream deserving to become reality.
When the world ends, what should I expect?
Hope, despair, paradise, or purgatory?
Grade: 11