Our daylight
came after the
hottest
week
in winter
we'd ever seen,
sun like flame,
scorching the land.
Smoke of torment
wound
through eternity
from fires
of the obliviously damned.
The land is gone,
so is our civilization
and minds.
One by one,
we chose our destiny below-ground,
where we long for death
and witness incineration
of our bloodline.
Sometimes we remember stories
of cool times, oceans and mist.
The others who cannot bear it,
fill with fury, scream and throw up their fists.
Our skin hurts to the touch,
our new home is filled
with our pain from morning to what was once night.
The lucky amongst us crawl out of darkness
into the sun's bright blazing light.
But of sanity,
I told you,
the rest have long since thrown aside.
It's become distant memory what we were,
before His punishment,
before the world died.
I listen to the howls of them in this hole,
how different it is now.
Our end time was bound to happen,
it was just the when
and the how.
My last few days in my corner
has had me thinking quite a bit.
I am only one of few left,
I guess it's time for our spirits to quit.
I whisper my last thoughts from a bleeding tongue,
into the diseased air,
finally closing the hope
that all is just a very long nightmare.
If everything has been taken from me,
erased and denied,
one thing is true--
I tried.
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