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Literature Text
We did not expect the world to end.
It just did.
We kept saying “It won't happen in our lifetime.”
But it did.
We closed our eyes to the cracks in the walls
and they crumbled around us.
We forgot the decay in front of us.
It was so easy to ignore.
It ate away the foundations of our lives.
Still we ignored it
and claimed that life would go on.
We did not see it coming.
Even if it was right in front of us.
We tried to repair the cracks in the dams
though the water had already washed us away.
And though the clouds were black and red
we looked away.
Or stared ourselves blind on the colour display
as our skin peeled away beneath the acidic rain.
We dreamt of the sky
and reached for the stars.
Forgetting the ground beneath our feet.
It tore apart at the seams
the gaps too wide to repair.
And the sun was setting on a world
divided.
We did not predict the true apocalypse
though many a prophet had tried.
Their predictions were hollow
and we lost faith.
We did not listen to the real prophets
their warnings drowning in the white noise
of so many cries for wolves in the past.
So we did not expect the world to end.
But it did.
It just did.
We kept saying “It won't happen in our lifetime.”
But it did.
We closed our eyes to the cracks in the walls
and they crumbled around us.
We forgot the decay in front of us.
It was so easy to ignore.
It ate away the foundations of our lives.
Still we ignored it
and claimed that life would go on.
We did not see it coming.
Even if it was right in front of us.
We tried to repair the cracks in the dams
though the water had already washed us away.
And though the clouds were black and red
we looked away.
Or stared ourselves blind on the colour display
as our skin peeled away beneath the acidic rain.
We dreamt of the sky
and reached for the stars.
Forgetting the ground beneath our feet.
It tore apart at the seams
the gaps too wide to repair.
And the sun was setting on a world
divided.
We did not predict the true apocalypse
though many a prophet had tried.
Their predictions were hollow
and we lost faith.
We did not listen to the real prophets
their warnings drowning in the white noise
of so many cries for wolves in the past.
So we did not expect the world to end.
But it did.
Literature
You've suffered enough...
My dearest child, do not weep, for I am here to wipe your tears away. Come, let us be free of these blankets; let us walk from these dim halls.
There lies what once was your body, fevered and eaten by disease. Your lips are cracked and bleeding, your arms are both thin and sallow. Do not fear them now, for they are long passed.
Come away now, for we must say your final goodbyes. Here to the mother and father that came to your bedside each day. Here to the brother, who shall honour your name. Do not be jealous of them, my dearest child. For you are simply moving ahead; you have not fallen behind.
“But why, why does it hur
Literature
The end of a world
As I look out the window and see the clouds of smoke
People are leaving their house,
With their face drained of hope
Close by I see people crying,
In the distance I hear people screaming
The worst is happening,
Only this time we’re not dreaming
The faithful are gathering,
Holding hands and praying
The tainted are bargaining,
Taking anything that can be taken
The weak are jumping off buildings,
Leaving blood on the pavement
Large scale of suicides
Whether by knife, gun, or hanging
It’s anarchy out there
And it has only begun
I’m damned to the flames
Because my sins can’t be undone
Literature
You Will Not Read This
When a writer puts his soul and passion into his work.
It will go unnoticed, often because of its length.
It is a rather sad fact, but a truth nonetheless.
For the simple emotions conveyed in just a few words,
Often hold more sway with those who are emotionally swayed.
There is no depth of the heart, nor a single thought spared.
For the effort placed into a piece that forgoes the winning edge,
For a hint of true meaning.
You will not read this piece and I will not expect you to.
It will not be popular or famous, nor will it see the light of day.
For length is the bane of true poetry,
And that is why so many of my kin have already l
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This is very random, seeing it is an attempt to spark my Muse and thus is written as more of an association ramble rather than an actual poem. I am not really sure what sparked it myself, other than the first sentence just popping into my head, so, I worked from there Any feedback is as always appreciated
© 2013 - 2024 Ridderkvinden
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Epic and Wonderful. I like it very much and I agree. I personally noticed that the world ended in 2000 when the new millennium came. Since than, only few things remain pure and positive nowadays.