Ramble Poem by Aryaa Gupta

Big Brother is watching.
A story of a dystopian world,
A tale of fiction, or so we are told
We believe our reality is
something far greater

So why do I feel so old?
We exist in a time where
existence is a prison
and monsters are romanticised

What was their vision?
Those who came before us,
Those of ages past
never meant for me to age so fast

It seemed only yesterday
Where to be busy
was to play

Where all literature
Felt like rambling thoughts
Where writers write their legacy
Trying to leave their spot

There is a sadness
In our truths,
We all live in an existential dread
Though there are some of us
That would much rather be dead

And then there are those,
Who don't quite know
I am one of those,
I don't quite know

If there is a God
Or a higher power
of some organic or robotic form
How are we to know?

In an age and time where
to do good doesn't mean
you receive good,
Why would anyone care?

For it is 'human nature'
to care for one's self-interests
Though we've been proven
to be communal creatures

Even now I wish our existence
to be better,
Not for the collective
But for myself.

For my thoughts spiral
and my hands shall go cold
Like every other being,
Yet I think myself unique

Out of the fear
That I am not.

So excuse me,
If I ramble.

For I,
Like many others,
Am only trying to make sense
of a world, of a society,
That has left me
to rot.