Why are all the messengers,
Sitting around. Sipping on wine
And...
Eating buttered croissants,
As if...
The world is not,
On the verge of utter turmoil.
Can't you see,
Millions are protesting?
And resisting the loss,
Of a quality of life...
Witnessed,
Downsliding?
Right before our own eyes.
'Chill. Calm down.
You too uptight.
Join us.
We were sent to deliver,
Simple, uncomplicated messages.
And no one listened.
In fact...
Some of us you see wounded,
Scarred and bandaged...
For doing good deeds intended,
Have been given,
Other less confrontational..
Assignments.'
What 'assignments'?
Sitting?
Pretending you don't notice,
The outrage, craze and chaos?
People are upset.
And allowing themselves,
To become physically...
And,
Most importantly...
Mentally ill.
'Hey! Do not judge us.
We don't do the choosing.
We are here,
Only to obey...
And follow instructions.'
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