Another Part of History

The story repeats itself, and the human protagonists continue to drive themselves in circles towards their own destruction, only to sit and wonder as they watch their “home” burn; like they built the foundation sturdy enough.

We are so self loathing; their police work to kill off alien invaders: those who they stole, those who they plundered, those who don’t fit their schema; those who like me, had no choice in conception, but decided to be born the way I was.

Why do you hate us? Why are we the ones lowest on the social totem pole, but we are held highest on your gold medal podiums and award winning stages, but yet we can’t shine amongst our diamonds and gold?
Our blood covers the rocks like the fresh coat of white paint on Donald Duck’s big, fat, white house. Like y’all put him in office, like y’all really put him in there foreal, foreal?

Like our government isn’t already a joke, like people don’t need medicine, or education, but the shits only inconvenient when your Tesla catch a flat on a pothole.

It’s like the nucleus holding us together is rotten at its core, and is slowly infecting everyone around it.

And just like that, I watch while the world burns from the top of my hill.