end of the world

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I feel calm. I’m alone with no one to hear. The world is falling apart around me. So I smile. I smile as the wind rips apart everything in sight.
With great vengeance and furious anger She will burn you. Drag us all through the dirt Until our gashes Are pustulated mounds
I convey here, To Whom it May Concern, I am writing this letter in regardTo the dead man rot in the boulevardIts stench, I begin to find rather hardTo continue with complete disregard
  Drums of the end                                            By A.R.T   The drums sound again They stir our people into rage But these drums are no of war
The great American eclips was supposed to be the end of the world. I spent it at work. One o'clock rolled around, And the world turned into a graveyard. All the workers shuffled outside to see.
Tell me,  What do you see as the end of the world? Will we cook ourselves in the toxins we've unleashed into the air? Will we poison our food and water with fuel spills? Will we kill ourselves in war?
And the World Ended the cycle is over and will begin anew with differnt players on a differnt stage telling the same story of sorow and of joy endings and begenings  but its alright
MANY WILL BE LEFT TO FACE SORROW AND GRIEF! ALL BECAUSE OF THEIR UNBELIEF. A TIME OF WHICH  MANY HAVE FEARED, MILLIONS  OF CHRISTIANS HAVING DISAPPEARED. IN YOUR MINDS EYE PLEASE TRY TO CAPTURE,
If it were the end of days What would you do? Would you run and hide Trying to save your hide? Would you pray to God Hoping he would quickly end it? Would you hold you loved ones
So what if this is the end? What if this is goodbye? What if fire starts to ravagely roar from the sky? This is it for our memories we've made in our lives. So stop thinking about the future, and listen to me now.
Love, hate Death, fate Searching, hiding Never finding. If I could ask just one small thing I'd beg the human race not to ring. Go back to your secluded place Just unlock that hidden grace.
Papers litter the ground, strewn about in their haste. Drawers left open, its contents left cluttered, searched. Coffee filled the mugs, no longer hot, but frozen. Brown plants in the corner, withered from life.
I have seen him weep and I have seen him cry and I have seen him in the throws of victory and ecstasy. Yet, Yet I look at him now, broken and crippled and old. And I see sadness in his eyes.
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