Instant Gratification

Constant exposure of 

instant gratification,

that’s where we’ve drawn the line.

Where we are, where we’ve been;

then traveling further in time. 

I'm keeping my composure. 

I’m fine, I swear that I’m fine 

while the world drowns in sin. 

I’ll be fine if I keep it together,

if I’m sitting next to him. 

Everywhere around me burns my eyes

and I’m considering if should cry. 

Why would I care at all

if we’re all going to die? 

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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