The Hands

A dark piece.

The mystic
Sighs
And opens the tome,
Turning to the
Page
Cut from the other
Copies for its gravity,
For the things it can
Do.

The politician
Chuckles
At the madness around
Him- he lets them
All free, a deadly choice
For him,
For
He used to be dictator.

The mechanic
Trembles,
The machine
Is complete, its sinister
Objective
Within its grasp;
So the mechanic dismantles
It.

The people
Run
From some unseen
Disaster,
Hiding and screaming,
Waiting and waiting
For someone to
Save them.