The Rise and Fall of Elon the Unchecked

 (A Poem, A Satire, A Warning)

Oh Elon, titan of tech,

How far your starlit dreams have wrecked.

From rockets soaring into the skies,

To jokes of Holocaust lows and lies.

What fuels this fire, this manic parade?

Is it ketamine’s grip, a chemical charade?

A mind unmoored, adrift, unclear,

Or demons suppressed that you refuse to hear?

Are you a man trapped by your own facade,

Masking truths with power and a wink to the odd?

Is the pain of the past too great to bear,

Your grief spilling out as chaos everywhere?

They say the first loss cuts the soul in two,

And no womb since could soften the hue.

Your children are numbers, your lovers estranged,

A hollow empire that feels prearranged.

Oh, Elon, your jokes about genocide,

Mock the wounds where humanity died.

But wit born of cruelty is a hollow art,

And you’re losing touch with the human heart.

Perhaps you believe you're adored by the throng,

But wealth breeds yes-men who play along.

It’s not you they love—it’s your coin, your might,

Not the man who posts in the dead of night.

Suppressing truth, suppressing love,

Suppressing the cry of the mourning dove.

Do you fear what the mirror might say,

If you whispered the secrets you hide away?

Your anger, Elon, leaks like oil on the sea,

A billionaire working his pain out on you and me.

Brene Brown told us, she’s got it right,

Stop spilling your shadows into the light.

If this ends in tragedy, poetic and grim,

Will we say, "We tried to reach him"?

Or will you simply die as you lived—

A man who took much and never gave?

So, Elon, take heed, find peace, get real,

Face your shadows before they steal

What’s left of your spark, your fragile core—

Before we remember you as nothing more

Than a punchline in a cautionary tale,

Of brilliance wasted, and humanity’s fail.