To the yet unborn

Waiting to come

There not much good

In the present world

Gone are the gentle

And people mild

Pretentious jerks and

Attitudes abound

Arms and ammunition

Weapons stockpiled

Tech and innovation

Grabs the headlines

But forgotten are the

Smoke and hate

Hunger and disease

And strife in spate

You may grow up

And try to make

Some sense of chaos

And it’s wake

Survive you may or

Thrive in this world

But not the life one

Looks forward to