Arid: The Crypteia’s Aftermath
A Poem
Engulfed in the desert's parched silence
I was nothing but another grain of sand in the wind
We knew how it would begin
But didn’t foresee the end
The hell unleashed
The rage
All of us locked in this cage
Of righteous
“Justified” outrage
Our lives are so short
And they only make them shorter
While they sit back
And collect every dime and quarter
But they did it
They finally did it
They leveled the playing field
By destroying it all
It was our final curtain call
Now we wonder this wasteland
Rotting alive
Wishing we could take one last dive
Nothing is safe to eat or drink
Because the safety gates were lost long ago
Now humanity lives
One foot out of the hole
Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
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Scribble Writing #3
Making progress daily Has me fading In this waiting Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
By Atomic Historian5 months ago in Poets
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Frighteningly prescient & all too real.
Well Written