The future has become uncertain,
A mist that weaves around my fingers;
What if that mist does not exit upon morning,
But instead settles itself and lingers?

Of course I fear the men of your future,
The ones of your past have disturbed my soul;
If that misty fear settles and proves sensible,
What things will follow, oh so reprehensible?

It seemed a long, tedious, yet clear run to freedom,
But you have wrote one more troublesome twist;
We shall see if it results in atrocity,
Terrible things to add to my list.