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Upon occasion, dreams become concerns
Of topics wrong and rotten and obscene.
Our world will turn and churn until it burns
Like potion in a cauldron boiling green.
And curséd witches slowly change the air
To gaseous smoky poison, thick and grey.
As leaders prey, eyes closed, heads bowed in prayer,
The young devolve becoming bleeding clay.
Cold mountains crumble, dead from man’s disease,
And oceans rise with tears of salt and blood.
Endangered fish are climbing up the trees
To try to meet with birds and fly the flood.
The nightmare breaks our hearts, our bodies ache,
But still we write and fight til we awake.