Poem #172: All Will Come to Fruition
All will come to fruition, all is going as planned. So, why can't I shake this horrific feeling that something is deeply wrong? A deep, dreadful feeling that every action I take will lead to my own doing, and that every step I take is further into my own grave. A dark, disturbing feeling that there will never be any peace, and that happy endings are little more than a product of fairy tales meant to sedate children to further their transformation into soulless adults? A twisted, treacherous, feeling that adulthood as a concept means nothing more than having sustained enough trauma and fear that one has learned how to pre-emptively clip one's own wings and supply oneself with their own abuse so that no one else has to do so. A noxious, nauseating feeling that as we grow older, we become less human, more hideous and deformed in both body and soul, and we lose the ability to empathize with our most vulnerable because we are conditioned to view vulnerability as a weakness that most be punished, until we learn to take pride in our abuse and indoctrination, to the point that we look back at it with pride and nostalgia.
A sinking, sickening feeling that the worst of humanity, that our most barbaric and depraved mass slaughter, genocide, rape, murder, torture, and bloodshed of innocents is simply the logical end point of all we were ever taught and lead to believe, and that opposition to this mass slaughter is meaningless and tantamount to opposing not only human nature, but the nature of all life. For all living things have thrived by preying upon those weaker. For there have always been being who have only existed to be preyed upon and consumed. And all and all, I can't shake this horrific feeling that all is going as planned, and all will come to fruition.
