Dystopia

I scream, yet no sound emits, and crying elicits no tears.Pulling my hair only makes it more gray, and frown lines have overtaken the laugh lines. I'm shrouded in black, mourning the painful loss of progeny, not wrought from DNA, and intentionally sabotaged by promises unfulfilled and complex lies meant to maximize painful repercussions. For nonchalant reactions to potentially serious consequences continue the farce. Dysfunctional dystopia replaces the "Leave It to Beaver" nuclear family, and the once beautiful child becomes a demonic like instrument. So be it.