The End Of Tommorow

I can see them flying on razor wings.
Those who have come to destroy us.

Once we had a future, possibilities unending.
Hope has since been denied, rejected by sorrow.

Now all that remains is the invader’s shadow.
In forgotten craters the ruins of our cities sit as gravestones.

We weep for the end that does not come fast enough.
To exhale the last human breath and be done with it all.

By Nicholas Byrley

– Mood: Randomly fatalistic.
Today’s lunch poem is a story fragment, a poem about a story I should write. Apocalyptic alien scenarios are always fun, lots of room to play around with it.

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