the Future

Inside of the seeing ball, 

I see nothing at all. 

Not a future,  

not a past,  

I can not see past all this foggy stuff, God blast! 

Then the smoke clears, 

and a hideous face appears, 

a bad, monstrous face. 

I shriek, 

and as it disappears, 

I shake my head in distaste, 

and in the reflection,

 I see a different monstrous face. 

This poem is about: 


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