Utopia Poem by Theodore Foster
Utopia
The sky a diamond,
Not a problem in sight,
The breeze crisp as an apple,
Everything under our control,
No famine,
No work,
No death,
But at the same time,
There is no real life,
No purpose at least,
We are immune,
To all disease,
But yet we are still sick with power,
Our little perfect world,
Our perfect dome,
Our perfect life,
But yet every single day,
Our world is still falling.
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4/24/2024 8:14:32 PM # 1.0.0.1119
