The Corrupt Politicians Cold Heart Poem by James McLain

With out life it is cold and know it is hot.
Space not the wind turns my face.
Where does a soul safely sleep and wait?
In a bubble as clear as a lake.
Our fate is the gate that is green!
Few now choose to return not to a world
that's corrupt without hope.
To what end, look to those that would
gain at our deaths.
Could they somehow have been told?
Such is the multiverse wrapped up in our fate
clutched in the arm's of our distant past.
The near future
consuming the lost light of our youth.
The corrupt politicians how did they know.
Whom were not of this earth and came with trust.
And in possession of this knowledge,
they would without empathy, those with out love
would send U.S. back to the void.
Backwards and into the dark and into their hearts
hearts that were born without soul's.