A Christmas Poem From The Terminator Future

Twas Christmas Eve and in a bunker, John Connor was a-hiding.

For just one night he prayed he’d find reprieve from all the fighting.

He hunkered down, surveyed his room, and all that he could see

Was a photo of his mother with a gutted-out humvee.

A sock was hung upon his rifle with the greatest care

With the hope that killer robots wouldn’t bust into his lair.

His eyelids became heavy as his thoughts began to trail

When from above he heard a single gunshot, then a wail!

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