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I thought it brilliant, then
But you were content to destroy it
And we rebuilt something new
Is it quite the same now?

I think not, but you still maintain
That we accomplished something great
I think you mad, but I dare not say it
Think me cowardly, I do not.

At any rate, we took it then
And vouchsafed our meager graces
By which you thought we could revive
The hope in it; I think you mad.

Why did you pretermit the thing
You created, you thoughtless child?
If divinity is all in action; you are god
Of hell alone; I’ll tell you not.

Let it revolutionize your thinking and
Your outlook on this lugubrious world
Your libertine habits are your destruction
I think you mad; I tell you not.

It evolved, and it is now a new
Stain upon this world; analysis itself
Was perfect; it was never meant to be
Your cynicism; I think you mad.

Or perhaps, I am the thing itself
Now that you have saw fit to unleash
Your monstrosity to the sentient world
I tell you not; I don’t believe.

Jadedly we criticize all that we
Ever were; your brainchild has killed us
And we are never more than we once were
When we believed in optimism.

Aha! You see, I told you then
Brilliant, it was, but so pernicious
To transfigure a mode not yet broken
It’s never the same now.