Only The Lonely Poem by John F. McCullagh

They finally did it,
so often they'd tried.
The whole Human race,
dead, a suicide.

The people I'd chosen
made war on Iran,
Until the last dropp of Isaac
bled out on the sand.

Their allies engaged
and the dread missiles flew.
Nuclear winter
took care of a few.

The rivers of Babylon
clotted with dead.
So it was written.
So it was said.

The tribes of the Prophet
and Abraham's clan
took everyone with them
so I understand.

I really will miss them.
If I had eyes, I cry.
They only knew How,
They stopped asking 'Why'.

Their Cities are silent,
filled with cockroaches only,
They consigned me to Myth
and now I am lonely.