Someday's it feels
like a prophecy is being written
through my hands.
Through this pen comes life
as these words come to life
And dance around the page,
they spin and spin
round and round
Crushing some, eating others
While I still have prophecies to be told
dormant in my mind.
While my hands are racing
My mind is wasting
And still pretty blank
And the outlook is bleak
For All Humanity
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