The Future Is Dead

She stood before me,

The pale greying old woman

Brittle her body,

And distant her gaze

 

My eyes looked upon her,

In pity, in sorry, in empathy

 

She asked me,

Is my future dead?

Her voice just a squek,

Of what it once was

 

Beaten by life,

And the people she surrounded herself with

Mistakes and judgements,

One and the same

 

Is my future dead?

She asked me as she started

To crumble,wither and die

And I said aloud!

 

“Nobody’s future is dead!
You wretched wreck!”

 

And Future appeared,

Before me, in all it’s glory

The youngling kid,

With vacant eyes

 

 

Just as the old hag,

Crumbled into bright blue dust

I said aloud!Again!

“Nobody’s future is dead!

Unless they decide so themselves!”

 

As I finished my sentence,

And looked at Future,

for moral confirmation

 

Future smiled at me,

slit it’s tiny little wrists

and quickly faded away

 

All life drained from it

And my eyes widened!

An invitation to partake in sanity!

 

Depravity!Behold!

The true nature of my blackened soul!

 

I laughed aloud, shouting all the while

Future is dead!

Future is dead!

The Future is dead!

 

Or is it?

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