The Town's Cassandra
He's always muttering something about the end being near.
He never says why. History's bound to repeat itself if we
Don't watch out. Which history? Well, if I don't know, I am
One of the zombies, he says, and then he wanders off.
Maybe I am, I think, as I watch him. He does show up here
Every day.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 29 times
Written on 2025-01-15 at 12:51
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text