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Twenty Twenty-Two

by Mark Spencer © 2022

Will you become the final feast
For a demonic prowling beast?
It stalked its prey for many years,
And fed upon our doubt and fears!

The year of twenty twenty-two,
Has seen intentions peering through
The shadows of a veiled disguise.
Revealing its seductive lies!

With fear it leads the flocks and herds,
They feel dependent on its words.
Like cattle in a slaughterhouse,
An evil game of cat and mouse!

It claimed its venom was the cure,
For every fisher needs a lure.
And Covid seemed so mighty then,
Enough to fell the strongest men!

But this was an election year!
So viruses were less severe!
For power's sake the beast was still,
It wouldn't bear its teeth until

It had secured control once more.
And then the world would hear it roar!
Ukraine will escalate that day,
And lockdowns will come back to play.

A new messiah soon revealed,
As Gog and Magog take the field!
God's temple will be built again,
Defiled by the man of sin!

An angel's plagues pour from his cup;
The great Euphrates will dry up.
And this my friend, I'll tell you true,
Was here in twenty twenty-two!

The beast will try to force its mark,
As Covid strains leap from the dark!
And what's about to hit the fan,
Will be the final breaths of man.

The stage is set for what's to come.
The signs will leave believers numb.
The darkness will begin anew,
Soon after twenty twenty-two!

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