The Divide A prepper sat, as storms rolled near, With stores of grain, and tools to steer. He'd laid his plans in stealthy gloom, Prepared for when the world met doom. The non-prepper laughed and mocked his fate, Dismissing warnings, ignoring the gate. "Paranoid fool," he'd sneer so bold, "Why hoard and fret where warmth runs cold?" Then came the end, a bitter plight, Plunging the earth into eternal night. Shadows loomed, and chaos reigned, Famished screams, the streets blood-stained. The prepper thrived, his bunker deep, While others starved, without a reap. His family safe, his stores intact, Their strength forged through his careful tact. But the fool, once proud and vain, Now stumbled in hunger, wracked with pain. With empty hands and hollow plea, He begged the prepper, “Please, save me.” Yet mercy fled where trust had died, The prepper’s eyes were coldly wide. “You questioned all, you mocked my creed, Why ...
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RAGE
Rage Within A barren battlefield etched in my mind, Echoes of war, no solace to find. The screams and the silence, they rage and collide, A storm no ceasefire can quiet inside. Isolation wraps its cold arms around, Each gasp of breath an enemy's sound. The dark becomes my closest friend, A never-ending war that doesn't end. Guilt stalks me like a shadowed beast, Feeding on memories, feasting, at least. A friend’s last glance, a shattered plea, How can I forgive what's left of me? Rage unbidden, it surges, it flares, Destroying the bridges, leaving no repairs. Yet within this inferno, I oddly stay, Finding comfort in fury, pushing hope away. You who’ve not seen the horrors I've known, Cannot fathom this cauldron, this cage made of bone. For you, life’s light may surely extend, But here, the dark is the only true friend. And so I live in this hellhole of thought, A soldier of scars, battles endlessly fought. Do not pity, do not ...
