A cold hour in humanity

A cold hour in humanity

So many have cried
Pleading the question, "Why?"many fears, as our hearts tear.
"Is there anyone out there?" "can anyone hear my cry?"
As we look on and see thousands around us die.
When I turn on the dial of my radio, or when I look into the box that lets me peer into your world, am I really seeing? Or have I gone blind?
I raise my hand to my chest and feel what I still call a beating heart
But then wonder 'have we grown apart?'
What is society telling me?
With layers of thick duct tape, injected with poisonous darts
of chaos, disappointments and desecrated dreams..
Is this what you call 'shock therapy?'
Have we come to accept that this is merely our existence?
Or is this in fact our reality?
So it would appear to be...
Is a higher purpose out there and a new life waiting for us to begin?
Is there a 'light at the end of this tunnel?'
Or am I waiting merely to watch as a witness the end of our humanity?
A numbing existence in getting old
Wondering if I should still believe everything I'm told
The world is on fire, call it the new "calm"
If this is our "golden hour"
Then why do I feel so cold?