Our Final Days Poem by austin marshall

Beautiful apple blossoms hide from view.



Skies of the deepest red derived from blue.



Once white clouds of unthinking rain.



Now black as night, Depressing like shackles and chains.







Molten lava flows from the earth,



pouring out like a hand that has been gashed open by a misplaced knife.



Meteors crashing to our once colorful world, now barren



And burying our animals in our pitiful strife.







While children pout and humans hide.



Our secrets are poured out from which we have confide.



Then as we begin to fight in dire need.



Comes a black hole and swallows our greed.