Apocalypse
Stifled sighs and stunted cries
Drown the desperate, earnest 'Whys?'
World is falling, world will crush,
Wash the grime, cleanse and flush.

Sky will tumble; sea will rise,
Life will fail, the spirit dies,
Naught to comfort, naught to save,
Naught to hate and naught to crave.

A lingering pain; a lasting fear;
An aching heart; a frozen tear
Means nothing now we begin to rot,
Naught remains that was once begot.

And so what now?  Where to go?
No sanctuary, no peace to know.
This is the end. The final scene.
And still nobody knows what this should mean.

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Anyafay
Poetry
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writing Anyafay
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Synopsis
Written in November 1999
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