Prophecy

Oh orphan child of your absent mother,

I give you what you deserve. 

A hand in your face

Never-ending disgrace

You live here only to serve

No one will love you

Life will shove you 

And all will hate you first

Pity will find no home in you

The friends you have will sour on you

No water will ever quench your thirst

Men will thrust the word upon you

And you will hear lies as truth

You will endure a kind of abuse

And all who hear will be obtuse

You will never fly 

Your dreams will die

All poverty is planted in you

Cycle in yourself 

You will find no help

As long as you live in this earth

Every chance for new birth

Will be ripped from your womb

Like a living man from an ancient tomb

Your hands will make nothing

And you will long for something

That will forever escape you

Until you find me

And while my hands bleed

I will grant new life to you. 

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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