The red clouds have blossomed
Cries of despair and pain are heard
Then abruptly stop

Death's door looms for all left living
It is inevitable
All life will die
No hope for respite or reprieve

Those left living
Slowly begin to die
They watch as the world dies with them

Empty streets echo with silence
Children lie sprawled in their own vomit
Their parents clutching them
In agonized death grips

Those surviving
But still dying this slow tortuous death
Cry out for their own demise
Suicide
The only hope for peace and painlessness

Surviving loved ones
Find each other
With sorrow and a subtle joy
They watch their last sunset
They feel the last breath of breeze
On their fevered skin.

They lie together in loves embrace
As the bitter pill of death is swallowed
Peace is realized in their last breath

© 2007 Well of Wyrd (original copywright date before accidental deletion)