Amidst assurances of "it will be fine,"
I ponder if it's an illusion to soothe mankind's mind.
In my infancy, a brighter future was pledged,
Yet hardships now feel like unbearable dredge.
Elders reminisce, "Oh, good old days,"
Yearning for skies of blue in nostalgic haze.
A tale renewed with each generation's gay,
Hope in hibernation, seeking escape from reality's fray.
Illusions we wield to endure our calamity,
A bittersweet embrace, a coping strategy for humanity.
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