I once met a time traveler,
Strange man, stranger clothes,
And habits of such we dream of.
A man of quirky teens.
And to him I asked what the future holds,
To which an omen of doom he foretold,
Of a world dying, not of catastrophe,
But of beauracracy, and hypocrisy.
A world, just day after tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
Often confusing
PoetrySecond part to a muses musings because wattpad has a story limit. . . I mean an enthralling book of stories
