End of Days

All his life he’s watched the clock

A count down to the end of days

Obsessed by his own mortality

When a normal life was to be had

 

As a child he grew up with dread in mind

A war not real but no less threatening

Thoughts of rockets and poisoned clouds

Of living through a slow irradiated death

 

As a teen, his first message delivered

He felt the reaper watching

Told on a bus ride home

That a fellow teen had fallen

 

Followed by a neighbour

A Grandparent

All in quick succession

Death was real

 

Now he lives a wasted life

Still looking over his shoulder

His troubled heart blackened

Shrivelled by doubt and fear

 

And lingering in the shadows

In the corner of his eye

There but not quite in sight

Death in all his glory!

 

Copyright © JRFC October 2019
The Mush claims no credit for the image featured in this
post

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