This is a bad-tempered poem. In the face of astounding stupidity, we cannot always be sweetness and light. Sometimes we just have to refuse. Even though refusal means oblivion.

I am no longer willing 
To keep trying to convince you. 
I have lost that spark of inspiration
That flame of courage: 
Burn, if you want to.

I am no longer able
To counter the flood of misinformation
The rising tide of lies: 
Drown, if you want to. 

I can no longer conjure
The magic of unfolding bud
The dip of swallow over rippled stream
To help you find your place
In the miracle of life.
Your business is not mine.
Choose oblivion, if you prefer:
I am no longer.