Alloy

They come from the North,
a terrible threat
and you’d bet
they’d kill us all.

And through the falls
they bring,
of songs they sing—
we’d make one final call.

So here we are
in fear of war,
no matter what they say—
a poem is nothing
but a pimp of sadness
a feeling of dismay.

1. https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/6si3ga/haiku/
2. https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/6si2ux/surveillance/