(i)
Mutations soaked the air, that night,
and drowned the world in dark;
a wave of chemical demise
that left the blackest mark.
The reaper was a scientist,
apocalypse foretold
by meddling with such fragile cloth;
the fabric of the world.
He rode a steed of good intent
upon a path of hope,
but paved inferno's flaming road;
the final misanthrope.
His name consigned to dust's lament,
his legacy is death;
existence now reformed in dirt
and Lonesome's shallow breath.
(ii)
I clawed my way from underground,
a rubble cradle's clutch.
I heaved a gulp of Poison's air
with lungs coated in smutch.
The burrows of the deepest trains
had kept me in their clasp,
as though the day had 'come a sword,
the night my hasp to grasp.
I knew I was a man, those days,
a person on the Earth,
my name forgotten out of need,
my past a blank since birth.
I wandered from life's wreckage with
a will to walk away
from history and mem'ries past;
society's dismay.
(iii)
I walked for weeks before the pang
of hunger halted me,
the air alive with nourishment;
extended destiny.
I knew my natural life had gone,
replaced with acid's fee,
but even then I didn't know
I'd walk through centuries.
Eventually, I understood;
the world was down to me,
and Atlas handed me his weight's
responsibility.
I set out to discover him;
the man who signed our writ.
The world needed a target's face
to drag it from the pit.
|
|
|
Author Notes
.
.
I hope you enjoyed this flash back to the past of the future of my dark fantasy poem :-)
Smutch - to blacken with soot
Misanthropy - hatred of mankind
Mike
.
.
|
|
©
Copyright 2024.
Fleedleflump
All rights reserved.
Fleedleflump
has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
|
|