The Haze


For days it hung around us

ominous, dark and dreary

hiding the sun

not quite the moon.

Cloaking everything

in a dull, yellow fog.

Birds stopped chirping,

the playgrounds lay empty

the world metamorphed

into a strange Dystopian entity.

Is this a sign of things yet to come?

Or a precursor of the future

already arrived for some?

A future turned dark and dreary

by the ignorance, the blindness,

the sheer callousness of those

who see before them

only the God named money?


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