World War Iii Poem by Cassandra Hooper

It's almost like this happens
On the borderline of Hell
Where it does no good to scream
And even less to yell
Where we question
If we'll make it out alive
Because there's little hope
That any of us will survive
We're all dying
Left and right
No will to speak
No strength to fight
Where we harvest
Black hearts of hate
And by the time they realize
It's always too late
So we'll fight out battles
And wage our wars
And in the end
We'll settle the scores