From a collection of recent experimentation with newspaper black-out poetry.

Spreading offered human destiny, a desert

Deliberately parched and nearly

Dead. Seed should have practiced

Fingers, empty husks going to feed

The people in spite of drought.

“This is beautiful!” rustled the wind,

A hope for the system that feeds

The vulnerable harvest, flailing.

Driven by increase, the four

Most human horsemen demand

Hunger in scores, amid riots, played

In the latest scientific change.

The failed harvests of consequence,

Of waves, believe those events were human.

Temperatures are rising,

Predicted. Continued

After decades of hungry prices.

Estimated: worldwide.

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