The glow of the screen is a tempest tonight

The glow of the screen is a tempest tonight,

with stories of chaos, of darkness, of fright.

I sit in my chair, as the world starts to spin,

a barrage of images, where does it begin?

Tragedies flash like the thunderous drum,

while numbness creeps in, like the cold, heavy hum.

My heart grows weary, as I watch and I wait,

a witness to sorrow, to the hand of fate.

Each headline a weight, a story unspooled,

leaving me breathless, the heart feels so fooled.

Yet I keep on staring, transfixed by the screen,

a world that is broken, and what could have been.