The Future is dead…
The homeless sleep in boxes hidden by tall and bushy shrubs, their last meal from a nearby restaurants dumpster; men, women and children, forgotten, shattered and despised; in the night, a hungry baby cries. Veterans, White Collar, Blue Collar, all begging for food, living on the streets, no jobs to be found, families are no longer sound. The Government talks end up in contradictions, lies, and the future “poverty” that is the prediction.
The spirit freezes, fruit of labors rot, life struggles persist, bad luck killing the heart and soul, hope ceases to exist. Shifting winds turn into storms, will the world grow wiser, or will it be humbled and beaten back into servility? Trust departed, a cardboard box in the streets is where the homeless make their beds, hope disappears and the future is dead.