Cardboard-Rush

Nowadays,
people search the earth
for cardboard.
So when they stumble across gold, like what is told
in The Tales of Old,
they have no clue what they've come across.
So they toss it aside,
and leave it for dust.  

Women load their modern weapons with contacts consisting of fuckboys, and fuckgirls.
Men leave their morals at home with their dress shirts, shoes, and ties.
Both walk to the door without the hopeful expectation of a kiss come nightfall;
instead, already knowing that they "temporarily" get to claim it all.
Condoms take the place of flowers with the couples brought together by universal towers.

Where has the magic gone?
When did people stop consulting with the stars?
When did hand-written love proclamations become lost to us?
These increasingly more vapid generations are cause for more confusing,
and elaborate equations.

It is notably said,
"Guns don't kill people.
  People kill people."
So the same could be implied about technology,
and the cheapening of our connections.

I will await love's return.
I'll refuse to swipe left or right.
I'll wish upon stars
for the re-raising of the bar.
And I will talk to the moon,
even if I walk alone.
Until I find gold,
cardboard will never be my home.