This must be the end.

Everything is broken. Marriages are broken.
Children are broken. Nobody can put them back together again.

There's a broken bottle scattered on the street.
A broken window. A broken mailbox.
A broke television set. A broken clock.
A broken lamp. A broken man.

The door slams shut the phone call ends
the interface is blocked.

You hear the sound of sirens the sound of gunshots.

People wander in the streets afraid to take another step
afraid to go back home unsure of how they got here
and not knowing where to go

Afraid to look at themselves in mirrors
broken into pieces and trying to replace the broken pieces
and put them back into some kind of a semblance
of a human being we no longer recognize

Afraid to ask for help

Obsessed with pain and death

Walking passed the windows of the stores
with only gizmos and gadgets to offer in the end

In the end, everyone must look after themselves