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by August Oct 23, 2004
Dark, fantasy /
They wait for then, and in the end
The lead machines will eat the men
Feeble minds can't comprehend
Metal teeth that tear the flesh
The binding contract of a race's death
Children who were born too young
Those broken over who cannot run
The world evolving that isn't done
This mass collection of the meak
The final harvest of the weak
Reaping forever what was sown
Here, thickets of waste have grown
Of all the problems we must own
This one will finally end
On this, our lives depend
Hand in our food, blood in our drink
great poem! i love it! really creative! keep it up!
oh god, i'm dying, you said "i have to give you crops". that's the best unintentional pun of the year. now i'm picturing some random dude giving me armfulls of wheat.
it is akin to genocide, but written with a different society's outlook.
this was difficult for me to understand. what is the poem about?