The Future Looks Grim

As the title states.

And the brakes are out,
The horns are comparative to loud mouths.
Focused on the crashing;
And when the truck hits a tree the starving one's look for rations.
They wait for action,
Some satisfaction even if it comes in fractions.
Can no God give em hope?
No wonder they're so dependent on the dope.
They sit by rail road tracks,
As if pinned by thumb tacks,
Skinny as hell, anti-model material, Wishing they were fat!
Teeth filled with plaque,
And rat scraps.
Little soldiers whom always stay strapped.
Couple of caps for the mac around their chest,
Wrapped.
No one wants to open this present.
It's like a packaged bomb.
War fighters like viet congs.
With the Donkey Kong mentality for survival,
They throw fireballs with the barrells.
Leave others like a beach; full of shells.
Making enemies SCREECH when they weren't "Saved By The Bell."
They are the rebels and the future,
Those who haven't been saved and are treated as the losers.
This is the grim outcome of those labeled dumb,
Who could only sit there and take the verbal abuse, twiddling thumbs.
No help from a nun,
Just like they were abandoned by mum.
It built up and in 9 months, they gave birth to inner devils.
Bursting with steam like tea kettles.
Committing sins that were unforgettable.
So they look for the antidote for their disease,
By silencing those who don't have to plea.
Not realizing they are the virus;
Spreading death like debt by the IRS.
Filled with angst and hatred,
Like clothes being over bleached, their colors are faded.
Exterminated-
That's what they do, rather than be.
The hades in the story book is their reality.
This is indeed their final fantasy,
But there's no bright Cloud's in their Strife,
They live in darkness, untouched by daylight,
So they can never say "I am Legend"
Instead they wait it out to see if they live through natural selection.
This is the parallel world of the outcast.
Who's last laugh is usually ended with a last blast.