dystopian
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I was 15 when the bombs exploded in the sky.I didn’t know what to think at first.First, there was the mortal terror.Then the everlasting despair.
The whole world had gone to shit.
I was fifteen years old when the nukes came
The war in Europehad spilled into the westnow we were all at war.
And I still feel a sense of sorrowof losswhen I think about it.
I found her on the kitchen floor.
She’d had a seizure.
I was terrified.
She’d had seizures before.Sometimes she’d just stare into spaceHoping that nothingnesswas something more.
The world was rottenIts core was destroyed by manBy nuclear fallout.
And I saw it allFire falling from the skyIt happened right then.
And we were all changed.
The end came like a thief,like a voice in the night.We weren’t preparedand we sure as hell weren’t ready.
There were signs everywhere…LITERAL SIGNS.
THE END IS NEAR.HE IS COMING.
No one cries anymoreIt’s just not who we are anymore
We’ve had our languages shutNow we speak in closed tongues
No one cares of naught, not
(otherwise titled psalm to
Amelie Beth by Matthew Scott,
his genuine, gluten free and non GMO
poetic non fake appreciative guise.)
Ah, thee availed me reason to craft
a poem with rhyme or reason,
Orwell would be proud-
grey worlds encompassing
grey people,
bent down by their
great oppressor.
And though their
eyes lay blank
and glossy
from broken wills,
their masters are
