Prediction (Poetry)

It appears there is not much doubt about it
we’re caught up in a self-made web of lies
like some spider who slipped and got entangled
but no one cares or hears our feeble cries.

There’s really very little chance of rescue
despite the struggle and the heartfelt sigh
for suddenly life’s changed its whole perspective
and there’s strangely more compassion for the fly.

The hunter’s been recast as baffled victim
progress never seeming more perverse
when Orwell offered far more truth than fiction
the weather forecast warns things will get worse.

And there’s nothing anyone can do about it
no matter what the dreams or brave new plans
for someone’s fiddled with the world’s agenda
now the future is no longer in our hands.