The End

hat-bench-explosion-apocalyptic-wallpaper-preview

The End

Hat crammed onto my head I walk
the streets. Nowhere to go now we have failed
ourselves for the last time. Elbowing through dirty
crowds of lost souls, I trip over a warm groaning body.
Sweating and feeling not unlike a corpse myself
I contemplate the glaring truth; we are all
beyond help. Finally, I spy the
park! Amazingly it’s
quiet here most
seek the
churches.
On my
bench
I sit
alone.
I can
see
the
end
from here
as I watch the mushroom cloud blossom.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2015
Shared on 3/6/2020 with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub for Open Link Night #261. Because of the virus scare and all of the bad news recently, I decided on an old poem about The End I’ve never shared before except with a class with WordPress.