The well is dry.
The lifeblood--
coursing through our veins,
the current which sustains--
is no more.
The granary is empty.
Our crops--
burning in the field,
our fate is now sealed--
have been consumed.
The children are dying.
The future--
once it gleamed like stars,
now it is not ours--
is melting.
We have no hope.
Salvation--
something better soon,
save us from our doom--
is impossible.
The point of no return
stares us in our fearful eyes.
The end--?
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