The Mushroom

Into the sky it goes,

with its fiery tail behind it-

the loud noise of its roar.

 

then,

it stops,

to then floar amongst the stars,

with a great gentleness and calm.

As it comes back to us with

no warning, or sign, or signal.

As others flee

and some pray.

There,

is no stopping it

at all

 

As most people know,

most mushrooms kill,

but this won't stop there

it's poisonous

venomous

and burning.

 

Leveling down cities,

with such bright light.

 

The leader retaliates in his plight,

but they were wrong to let it go.

 

As these mushrooms thrive,

life now dies.

When the mushrooms come to stay alive.

 

Shocking it is,

as much as it hurts-

that how beautiful this thing is.

An Angel of Death now lurks,

through this bright shadow.

 

Now the Angel has finished,

the garden now done

with gray and black charred mulch.

 

These fiery mushrooms

have no room-

clogging the air

with its gas,

and no care

to the world.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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