the DAFT

Delusional ghosts walk on the pavement
They are transparent
Were we wholly lost?
Where was the point at which we created this
Dystopian apocalyptic future trajectory;
We fell down;
I can't complain; 
I am not that daring;
Wishing the best for us; 
I would cry, but all potential tears had evaporated;
the stolidity drained all moisture from me;
No more argumentation;
all of them were superfluous
"Please, grant me a moment's respite."
"Show us a glimmer of hope."
Smooth echoes of final sentences
From that anti-lovely future,
which, in your narrative,
will never happen,
where your grandchildren,
won't face all your contemporary sins,
so you can presume,
you always win;
and you are the gracious king
of this planet,
which has unlimited
capability for tolerating
each kind of pain
caused by us.