‘Bring out your dead,’

The crier roared through the town, But this was not the middle ages.

‘Bring out your dead!’

His voice tolled through the night, Followed by a slow-moving lorry.

The caravan lurched along filthy streets, Between over-crowded tower blocks.

Bodies dropped from above,

Thrown carelessly out of briefly opened windows.

‘Bring out your dead!’

The usual cry in a metropolis of violence,

Yet, this was not the middle ages,

‘Bring out your dead!’

His voice crackled as a rain of starved wretches fell, Clouding the sky.

Between buildings villains lurched,

Waiting to steal for their desperate families.

Machines stole the work of honest folk, And the population continued to swell beyond all help.

‘Bring out your dead,’

The lorries veered between abandoned cars, Fuel shortages targeted the poor.

‘Bring out your dead!’

As candles glowed and fire filled every hearth, Smog drenched the sky.

In one room flats families squeezed,

Medical manufacturing ceased when the power stations closed.

Centrally produced food served the masses, And disease and squalor thrived.

‘Bring out your dead,’

But this was not the middle ages.

‘Bring out your dead, so you can be fed!’

The world was shutting down around the masses. ‘Bring out your dead, so you can be fed!’ Cannibals all!

This was the future.