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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Paranormal · #2290149
What to do when the future becomes too dreadful to tell?
I wander from town to town
Peddling visions of the future to anxious passers-by.

I took joy in sharing happy news.
I comforted those whose futures were not so bright.

Gone are the visions of things to come:
The happy and the sad.
In their place, a cold gray fog that hurts the eyes.

So I stare, blankly o'er the crystal.
And, I lie.
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