Mushroom Soup
Above our heads that cloud
Mushroom shaped death
With a pyroclastic promise
Of incineration leaving
Nothing but our shadows
That we can only hope
Carries upon it no pain
No suffering as we just vanish
Along with most other
Life and species on this planet
And a nuclear winter
Lasting for many long years
But with no one to mourn
No one to shed a tear
I take no joy in spreading fear
But have no faith in those who rule
I will take no pleasure if I am right
As humanity succumbs to eternal midnights
No ringing of church bells
No tombstones
Over which to dwell
A thousand years from now
The planet will heal
And with no human species
This earth will grow very well
In time nobody will even know
Or be able to tell
That the miracles known as human beings
Here used to dwell
As we will be a myth
But written in no books
And told in no stories
For they like us will fail to exist.
Copyright © Fauxcroft Wade | Year Posted 2018
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