The Post Industrials

Of soft hands and soft minds

Of weak backs and weaker resolve

No direction, north or south

Certainly not west, but not quite east

A land of total confusion

No churches or mills

Or fathers or God

Or money or hope

Across the sea the center of the new world awakens to a brutal existence

While the fleeting experiment beneath my feet dies in a haze of drugs and apathy

Let it be said, that some of us did our best

To salvage what could have been of the West

For the men of weak minds in hard times

Were not millennials

Rather, they are the Post Industrials of the former West.

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Outcast Kaitsar

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