Prophecy - Poem by jerry hughes
'the best of seers is he who guesses well'
Like panicked wildebeest
we are gathering momentum
Only the old will be saved this terrible fate,
for they have outlived their uselessness.
The nuclear button is pressed
and nothing can stop the journey.
It will end in cataclysmic glory,
when the air stifles, rivers clog,
trees die, and children mutate
into brainless beings.
The cloud on the horizon grows
with the thundering of a billion hooves.
It's getting closer.
There's nowhere left to run.
It has begun;
And you, ignored the warnings.
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