Apathy hangs dark over decision,
excusing all sloth, blurring road vision,
giving full lie to great works in progress,
never completed, and soon lost in morass.

It's too late!" they say, fat-tub-shaped reclining,
pick up the remote, further defining
their eyescreens, blue-green and reflected,
watching the world's grisly business, dejected.

Outside, the screaming comes, heard, unabated,
sounds deftly muted, cruel listeners elated.
False laughter echoes through homes all around
and children grow up without touching the ground.

Violence is reeking from Earth's every pore,
hooks gutting her gullet, beak choking up gore.
Bloodiness spills with the growth of dark ages,
and historians smirk adding death to their pages.