After the apocaliptic Tuesday [Poem]

Your questions are piercing my heart
We don’t know anything
In The Times of the lushes green meadows
We don’t know anything isn’t true
Humerous avoiding of war
Good good
Critical of feminine wisdom
Are we going to die today?
What do you think we are called?
Good no, we have an Dear
We are now clear about what poetic imegary does for people.
Ha ha.