Monsters don't exist but humans do. Humans have a talent for destroying anything beautiful about to bloom. When the last human on Earth died, she died like a hero going home.
In a world without a future, each passing moment is the end of the world...
The voice was unexpected and flitted through the air like a scaly shadow. It was coarse like a fragmented rock and sounded like the voice had come from vocal chords which were trapped in sandpaper.
"Your misery and hate will kill us all,
So you take the fall.
We'll mimic your tone and mind,
With my beaten mind it's impossible to be kind.
We'll bottle it up and put it on the shelf,
So we can be like yourself.
The roses are wilted, and the violets are dead,
So be prepared for us to cut into your head.
Before we were painted black.
But now we want our faces back."
Axel's mind was like a tunnel. The further he went the darker it got. Words and rhymes lingered in it, hardly audible. It kept repeating itself like a drunk man with a tune stuck in his head.
"Stop it," he thought. "Please stop it."
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Author's Note
What do you think the poem means and who do you think is saying it?
