A Revolution is Coming
Tadpoles stand
against the sky,
screaming, screaming,
but they don't know why.
Their gaping mouths
emit no sound,
to profane the silence
that's so profound.
The tadpoles stand
in rank and file,
black row after black row
mile after mile.
It is the march of
the tadpole race,
a march so long
it can be seen from space.
All of the tadpoles
in all of the world,
all of them screaming
and none of them heard.
And then they are gone
Where? nobody knows,
and the world is now filled
with just frogs and toads.