prose

The Foreteller.

THE FORETELLER

He looked down and deep

In the green van of future deeds

Saw many generations lining up

But only a few jobs to come

There were the type of people

Whose job was to wire

Connect all kinds of cables

All day long

Till the times were gone

Then there were the type of people

Whose job was to press a button

All days long

Till they no longer existed

And all of their days were gone

Then there were the types of people

Special ones

Who could never be satisfied

Craved for the salty-savoury

Every day more and more

Till they figured out

How their days could not be made gone

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