An Elegy For Modern Youth

Young hearts break like glass,
in this modern turpitude.
Superficial worlds
glitter like a thousand suns,
Yet the wastelands of
these troubled souls grow daily.
So many worries
On disenchanted faces.
Once there was refuge
In warm, sanctified places,
well- lit by candles.
Now nothingness permeates
everything under
the sun. All is vanity.
Now fallen angels,
scatter the soft feathers of
their dismembered wings
across numbed streets of sorrow.
Nothing can redeem
This post-industrial gloom.