Used to be alive, beneath your feet, as you navigate
Throughout the broken chairs. Their tables are
Long missing. There is a discarded picture
Of a couple kissing; God only knows how it found
Its way here. It is faded and torn at the edges;
Representative of how you feel as you shift through
This world and wonder whether anything you see
Is even real. The sky is black, and although you’re
Killing time in the hope that sunlight will attack
You eventually crunch your way through to the
Reality that this world is as good as it gets.
Full of regrets, you question:
How the hell do we escape this wasteland?
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