Art seems somewhat pointless
in this age
of epic struggles
and criminal gods.
It is hard
to see value
in dick jokes and sobs
in the face of the upcoming battles.

Who cares if you didn’t get the girl?
Who cares if you’re alone in this world?
Who cares if they’re out of Choco-Swirl?
Who cares at all?

Individual entities are meaningless
when surrounded
by these titannic world-changing factors.
Who is going to listen
to the whines of the artist?
Why bother at all
unless
it helps one soul
go on another day
or find a voice to say "nay"
or any other resistant thought.

Maybe then
art still has a slight bit of use
left in its sad
pointless bones.