Years go by, like a hot, dry summer breeze.
Trees are scorched, no water to be found.
Waves of heat, crashing against the earth,
baking me to a crisp.
I walk alone, in a world now all desert; deserted forever.
I’ve roamed for years, decaying in life,
yet never diminishing in it.
Many cities have fallen,
outstretched fingers crushed to dust, in a fist that is the world’s end.
Not one greets me, for no one but me is around.
I’m the last, I believe.
I am cursed with life
with no cure, no escape.
I see no reason for this immortality,
no reasin for this life, as relentless as it is.
Above, in a mock sea so blue, so clear;
the blazing sun. It beats down as if determined to kill me.
But it cannot.
I can’t die, though I’d appreciate it.
Throat parched, joints sore, always in pain.
I’m decaying in life, but not diminishing in it.
I am cursed, cursed with life.