End Of The World Poem by Shyelin Rose

Buildings crumble to the ground
people lost, no one found
As I sit there, in the middle
I take a deep breath, and pick up my fiddle.

I gently lay the bow to the strings,
pull it along, as my fiddle sings
I play it up with passion and glee
as simplest reality begins to flee

My song begins to come to an end
bridges fall, and towers bend
Finished now with my fiddle's song
Life is over, and the world is gone.