Every time we cross paths
Worlds collide –
Matter and anti-matter clash
And it makes such a mess
Everything we do is like
One thousand little Hiroshimas,
Living in the shade of the multitude
Of mushroom clouds scattered about.
Everyone tells us to use
A big stick to correct our neighbors
Faulty way of thinking,
When all we really want to do is to
Vaporize everything around us.
With such righteous heat
As to leave just their shadows burned
into the concrete.
I cannot imagine this sort of loneliess
To be the one left standing
In such a world.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment