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Apocalypse

Broken, bleeding, spent, bent old men, twist tales and
Build a city of lies upon a bed of nails, somewhere they
Make the young believe that life is good, and kind yet,
Really we're just waiting for our cold savage death.

Insignificant grains of sand drop to the bottom of the hour glass
Time too small to care if it exists or not anymore sighs as it passes
Winds colder than ice smear themselves against the windows
And the lifeless trees shiver in the dark, frozen atmosphere

The people wake every day to a cold, dead, lifeless sun,
They stare at a black starless sky, darker then death,
Time ticks away. The people grow up, grow old, then die,
The land waits to be gone, the sky waits to fall, crashing down.

Gates that once closed off the outside world from the inside
Slowly begin to slide back open and the infected roam through
Wondering if time will ever find its sane marking place again
The souls of the lifeless start to break apart as the night falls

With shouts torn from the lungs of the dead men walking,
Screams and howls dragged from the bowls of hell itself,
Ghosts of the past are roaming the barren lands of the earth,
Hell is cracked right open, truly killing the hopes of the living.

Blood slowly slurs down the brick walls of the broken city
Rotting bodies drown in the rivers of mud in the town square
Angels sit perched on the church chapel and pray silently
Their lost prayer burning the mental conscience of the broken souls

On the floor, the bile blackened corpses of the men left to die,
The ones left alive crawl from the blood soaked battlefields,
Deformed by evil, in the land of the good, the land of the holy,
God has forsaken this land and it's people, let the evil reign.

The sin filled atmosphere stings the skin of the innocent
Their eyes water with the tears the lost men could no longer cry
Silent screams snake through the chilling air as their hearts freeze
With all their breath, they beg death to end it all for them

And as hell storms the land, fire rages across the lands,
Smoke clouds the sky leaving no air and only one option,
That option is a single word, the death to a generation,
And that single word is - and always will be - suicide.

rayneg

@rayneg

16. UK. Writer of many stories, and some poems but those are usually horrendous. I also draw rather a lot of odd little things.

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Wow, great write 👏👏👏

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