The Curse to Come (Poem)

Something’s coming in the air alright
But it ain’t some typa hippie lookin fairy on a cloud

It’s the stench of pile up
in an open grave that looks more like a garbage dump

Full of bodies that no one can claim
Cuz the claimants got hit with the curse just the same

No force
Not truth, not reason
Not even punishment from the mighty rod
is able to knock sense into the recesses of the powerless netherworld

And as the wayward phantoms cling to idolatry
All sleeping the same sleep
Paradise is fading faster than the curse that is to come

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