New Year’s Deceive

A poem about this year

It’s New Year's Eve, this very year. Twelve whole months have come to a close. The clock is ticking, counting down. What comes next? It seems nobody knows.

The bells they strike, the fireworks bang. The sky is lit up with sound, And then the booming of this ubiquitous voice, Just like that, we’re all gathered round.

“This year,” it says, deep and jarred, “This was all simply a faux.” “An elaborate trial, a test run even,” “For the making of our new cosmic show.”

Like Big Brother, I guess, but much bigger. A programme set on a mass global scale. Man you should see our reactions. Billions of faces burning red, ghostly pale.

An announcement thus now revealing, What they shrouded with daggers and cloaks. An apocalypse production, a performative lie. Huh. So it was all just a hoax.