Industrious Fascist

The skies

Have fallen.

Considering

That they

Took

Everything

Over.

A wasteland

Is all

That this is

Now.

Of rotting corpses

The dead

Are rising.

A nightmarish hell

A hellish nightmare.

But this

Is all

A reality

A new reality.

To speak the truth

Is to die

And to die

Is by

Speaking

The truth.

The sky

Has fallen

And no one

Can stop it.

The smoke stacks

Can be seen

For miles

And miles.

For this

Is the land

Of the corporations.

In brownish skies

From all

Of the smoke.

The sun

Creates

A mere haze.

The grass

Is now nothing

But dead weeds.

And the land

Has been

Dried up

From all

Of the hydroelectric dams.

And the echoes

From the factories

Can be heard.

As the employees

Aren’t necessarily

Hired.

Maybe

It isn’t

The skies

That have fallen.

Maybe

It is only

The carbon monoxide

That the factories

Produce.

To think

This was

The land of the free

The home of the brave.

The stale wind

Blows slowly

Across the wasteland

With the factories

In the distance.