The Crumble

A poem about the apocalyptic crumble of society, caused by humanity itself

The Crumble

Corruptions run the world ablaze

With survivors running amidst chaos

Broken homes near and deserted ruins far

Things will never be the same again

Burning skies above the market

And that’s where I saw them

Chaotic and Hectic

Unscropulous men fighting for survival

Though the fight how it’s for naught and not naught but loss and sorrow

Bare footed and barely dressed they smashed anything they saw, and any means to shatter the windows of the stores, which once stood crowded yet peaceful

Their scars on their backs I saw as they broke and tore apart the sign of their leader way above their heads

Food and weapons they grabbed, stole, and fought for

Their families and children they forgot

Their friends they killed

All for the belief that not doing so would only get themselves killed

But in truth? I thought bitterly

Me myself, only an item I grabbed

One and no more

Not food nor water

But only a black item, about palm’s length, smelling of violence

The bitter and stinging smell of gunpowder

The truth?

I sticked the hole-y edge into my mouth

And as I closed my eyes,

I thought,

Such fools fighting for needless survival in a place already turned so desolate

With men not more than feral animals

In a chaotic world with burning skies and chaotic lands

In the extinction of the very word of civilization

I thought, one final one in my head

“Oh, how smart I am, taking the only tool I need, one to take me to the skies and above the burning skies”

The perfectly timed escape

With not more than just one breath I pulled the trigger

Yes, the trigger of the gun

I assure you though kind and gentle people

While you may think me a fool

In my situation that was the smartest thing anyone could’ve done

Though in yours ...