Synthetic

The passing clouds
Waves of light and confusion
Clamor and childlike delusion.

The sounds
The festering wounds on the ground
The silence.

The science that claimed religion
Unclaimed the roar of passing leaves
Spelled confusion and disbelief.

Invisible
Lain and put to rest
Clocked, loaded and cocked.

It is, in reality, all artificial
The sight and sounds that confuse
The river that must flow to nothingness.

Artifacts that are left in the rain
Rotten and lost to dismay
Ethereal sensation of endless negation.

Plastic
Unable to be corrupted but re-fabricated
Dull and without purpose.

Insane and disconnected
Left to the world, juxtaposed
While the blind man must lead, the deaf scream to follow.

It is the situation that you reclaim.
It is a chapter written once again.
Synthetic, just like you were.