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

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