Post a poem about 2020

really cool. i love the cadence. started following ur tumblr, excited to see more

1. Question everything 
   
2. Trust nothing 
3. This is the year 2020
4. Where smart became stupid
5. And stupid became smart 

i really dig this, fr

Thank you Deranged Derrick, 

Poem:

Good job :)

Carved my arm with a crescent moon

Really could feel 2020 in that! 

"Look", she said,
and gestured to the cluster of swirling shadows
concerned with the purity of The Moment
weaving and turning in circles.
"It's a sign of the end times."
A cloud, or fog,
or smog,
or what they are,
not what I say they are.

We pass beneath them, her and I,
and others,
ones that can't afford to do without thought,
act without seeing.
My face hurts.

I'm aware the leaves are dying,
the grass is dried.
The sun's burned out
and the world tucks itself in
and waits to see what happens next
like it's unsure of the story it's being told.
My ears burn.

On a greater scale of reference than a short wait with uneasy organs can produce,
what has and will be mean little.
It's happened before.
On a greater scale of reference than a keen eye to dates and figures can produce,
what has and will be mean even less.
It's like a billboard, an obnoxious ad.
It'll happen again.
My nose runs.

You'd do best to recall the billboards and ads made the noses exposed.
Billboards and ads made you get screamed at
and billboards and ads left you alone,
you know.
I do know.
I do know and I don't know.
It seems like two logs in the same fire.
Don't think of fire so unfondly when you can't feel your face.

"Look," she said,
and her rigid fingers took my arm
and made me gesture to the blur of reds,
blues, greys,
blacks, whites,
weaving and turning, again,
in a sense,
in circles in front of me.
"It's a sign of the end times".
An idea,
one I caught from closeness and carelessness,

I am loving all the creative responses you all have had to this!

i loved it : ) your style dramaticsizes 2020 in the best way. 

The best I can do is a limerick:

There was the year Twenty twenty
Before a month we had plenty
Of all the shit
We all had fits
From one disaster too many.

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The Year I Lost Everything

Staying home wasn’t so sad.

It was comforting, no one would berate me, nor judge me.

It was never too loud, too cramped, too smelly.

I didn’t have to act.

No more performances.

I could still talk to everyone, even if not face to face.

I could talk to me dearest love, even when I didn’t know at the time, that it was love. 

However the schools have a watchful eye.

Don’t be too careless, lest you lose everything.

I learned the hard way.

It was a warning at first, and while the time apart from my friends and my love was treacherous, I got them back.

However the second time, was when it all fell apart. 

Mother’s shouts still echo from time to time.

I lost my dearest love. 

No longer allowed to talk to them.

My friends, forced to leave, because I couldn’t learn when to keep my mouth shut.

The one who stayed, would turn into a monster in a few years.

I opened my eyes to see, several friends, had thorns all along, to love them was to hurt yourself.

My dearest love would turn their back on me come next year, as they grew into a monster, spewing venom to those who love them.

The comfort, the group I established, broken, I scramble to keep what little I have left and replace what I lost.

Yet as is life, those pieces were never truly replaced. 

And now, I can no longer claim to be the same person I was back then. 

The person I loved dearly I now wish to rip apart and watch their wretched face twist in fear.

The people I considered friends now appear monsters to me.

I have broken more than ever.

What remains is a husk, a shell, aimless pieces with no unifying qualities.

Or maybe that is what I was all along.

I just only realize now after being trapped in my head.

Forced to confront myself.

Forced to be truly alone.

Now everyone is happy to be back.

They embrace and rejoice.

They never truly said goodbye.

They would return.

Yet what do I have to greet me?

Nothing.

Nothing but the hole in my chest where my heart once was.

Nothing but the growing emptiness that eats away at my bones.

Nothing but the gnawing fear in my brain.

Nothing.

I lost everything that year.