The world is a corpse,
Lain amidst rot and pus,
Split up and killed long ago,
Now nothing more than ore,
Nothing more than flesh,

We are vermin gnawing at the meat,
An infection borne of Mother Natures own seed,
Rats in tracksuits and skirts,
Stinking,
Malignant,

Deaths spectre strafes up above,
The barbers blade,
Picking us off one by one,
Dining upon our foul frail forms,
Eternal bird gets the worm,

But the reaper can only excise so many,
We’ve become quite the obstinate infestation,
We are legion,
So the only salve I fear,
Would be the sun stepping in,

And we all know what that means.

Comments
  1. Yes, I know what that means!!. Strong words – But Truth, indeed.
    Well penned and powerful metaphors.

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