I'm An Ageing Poet: (Sonnet) Poem by DM W

I'm an ageing poet with broken voice.
I contemplate Modernity's ruins.
Under sickly neon lights. O what choice
Do I have but to summon my waning
Gifts and powers to document these times? !
Yet my readers have now abandoned me.
Still, I interpret harsh symbols and signs
That mock the ways of Love and its vast dreams.
Everyone I meet seems so self-absorbed.
People sit apart and stare at bright screens.
To my tired eyes, they look sullen and bored.
Forced to endure the replaying of scenes,
I cling to a fragile, inner light that guides
Me as I watch rich worlds of beauty die.