End of Time
Here we stand at the end of time
can you hear the wind howl?
empty cities where no clocks chime
the stale air smells foul
Cracked roads broken bridges
skyscrapers snapped like pencils
streetlights hang over open ridges
while leaves are blown by a breeze so gentle
The sky is stained with a red haze
as black clouds gathering in the distance
they are summoned by a dark sage
that is just a shadow off mans resistance
so we stand here at the end of an empire
we stand on the destruction of men, entire.
This poem is about:
Our world