The End of the World

The end of the world was dreary
And teary, and eerie and grey
As some did run to their loved ones,
Others did cry in dismay

They trampled, and wrestled and panicked
not knowing just what they should do
The people of Earth, they spent their last minutes
Wondering... before all their lives they saw through

If I had a last moment to live
I think I’d sit and wonder as well
How do you spend such a moment?
It’s human, it’s futile, death’s spell

As the ships descend through the atmosphere,
As the zombies, they leap from the earth
Tsunamis, eruptions, corruptions commandeer
And our lives are burned at the hearth

As bushfires roar across golden planes,
As disease stamps out our last breath,
As our own stupidity strikes finally again,
We contemplate, we internalise our own death

Alissia Lyons's picture

I write poetry and short stories in my spare time but only recently have started sharing my work. Generally I find the subject matter of my work is quite dark however I wouldn't describe the style as dramatic or overly sombre. For instance, my poem 'The End of the World' draws on limerick form and the language is simple despite what could be seen as macabre subject matter.

Last updated February 18, 2013