**This was part of an anthology I wrote, it's sibling poem was 'If you give the world a cookie'. I hope you all enjoy and notice the theme going.
All Hope is Lost
Run for the hills,
the world is ending before us.
The structures are crumbling,
and the towers are falling.
Are our eyes truly so blind,
to the storm that is rising so swift?
Or do we refuse to believe in
the tides that are rolling inward.
The rivers are awash in crimson,
and the oceans murky with poison.
The monkies continue
their pestillence all about the world.
I can see the warheads,
burning away the atmosphere.
They are raining down as judgment,
upon the helpless below.
Scream and cry in terror,
nothing can save our sad souls now.
Our plight is impossible fufill,
for how can we save you, when we can't save ourselves.
Is it really the end,
that justifies the means.
Why do we have to wait until Terra Firma is dying,
To realize all Hope is Lost.
Sometimes I wish you wrote more happy poems. That way you have more variety. Of course, not saying that these ones are not good! ><
ReplyDeleteIt was just the theme that I noticed. Also that you refer to people as "monkies" a lot. I know that is probably your "thing" but it is okay to change it up a bit sometimes, you know? :]
This is actually quite old. Two years, I believe.
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me of a song I created, 'Ragnarok.' I'd like to show it to you sometime...anyway...
ReplyDeleteI do see a pattern, it seems that monkey's are humans, and humans are blind.
It's a sad work of art, but again, that is your style...Though I do agree that it's not wrong to change styles every now and then.
I agree with Mister Aaron. :]
ReplyDeleteEven slight changes are still interesting, because it is something new. I know you would do amazing in whatever style you wanted to try, so maybe spread your writing wings. :3
You seem to raise pertinent questions amid the rubble of our own immanent destruction. And yet they are empty questions, for how are we to escape the inescapable?
ReplyDelete"All Hope is Lost" is a truly fitting title to a poem that leaves a feeling of emptiness at the futility of being able to change just in order to postpone our self-destruction.