Granite Claws: I wrote this poem when I was thinking about a story I plan
on writing.

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The Goal Tomorrow

The broken down, tiwsted metal,
The searing, twisted pain.
The sky is ripping,
My grasp is slipping,
Tomorrow, it'll happen again.

The White-clad, the Black-clad,
To me, are the same,
'Cause nothing's changing
Thoughts all ranging,
Tomorrow' are to blame.

Oh Blue-sky, oh Red-sky,
Smoke in the air, blurring my eyes
With tears.
And fears.
Tomorrow's goal; to make us die.

Dear Woodlands, you're burning!
The creatures all dead,
"Complete for pending,
Forests unending."
Tomorrow *heard* it said.

The schools and the gangs
Are not far apart.
Both tossing,
Embossing
Their mark for Tomorrow.

"Write your own stupid essays,"
"Take your own cursed tests!"
"Who cares about salt?"
"This is all *your* fault!"
Are things Tomorrow likes best.

Heaven and Hell clash daily,
The media blinds our view,
We can't even see for ourselves.
Nothing here that we know.
But this is Tomorrow's goal.

/ Granite Claws