The Party’s Over


It was a necessary thing;
The death of dreams;
The slow erosion of faith;
The end of the establishment.
Our hope torched beyond oblivion;
Like ants drenched in Thermite;
We paraded by the fire
And we danced;
Twirling in cyclic fashion;
Around, around, around;
Work, earn, spend;
Work, earn, spend;
While we built our house of cards;
Odds stacked in their favor.
But they had to know,
(The architects of the dream),
That a house built on quicksand
Would decline slowly-
And the more we struggled
The faster it sank.

KMcGee 2016


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