A great piece!

Life is Poetry

The oceans are boiling and the

skies are on fire.

This is the beginning of the end,

the final movement to the societal symphony.


We, the priveleged few,

enjoy closing our eyes to the apocalypse.

After all, we’ll burn later,

albeit not by the fires of this Earth.


You will burn, oh foolish ones,

and you will simmer.

For ignoring the dying cries of the masses,

the fires blaze for you.


As I walk through the wastelands,

the wilds beyond the domed cities of austerity,

my throat still burns, despite the efforts

of a pathetic, though determined gas mask.


I march through a naked forest,

stripped bare by the hot lash of the wind.

Birds periodically fall out of the sky,

their eyes burst from their boiling blood.


I see an endless field of corpses.

The end of the world does not discriminate.

I see babies, cradled by their mothers

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