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    WARNING: Stories on this site may contain mature language and situations, and may be inappropriate for readers under the age of 18.

    THE END by Eileen Neary
    posted March 22, 2010 under Poetry
    Tags:   

    Broken urban desert, stale, parched
    Dusted and frosted with collapsing automobiles
    Skeletal juices crunch and ooze underfoot
    All is dead
    And as I stumble past a window I see my blackened eyes
    Dry lips, death-blown hair, empty gaze
    And with each step another ravaged wound
    My heart begins to sputter
    And when my left arm goes I don’t feel a thing
    because the horde has swallowed me
    New York City couldn’t save me

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    4 Comments (Leave a comment)

    1. Ooo! I’m not usually much of a fan of poetry, genre or not.

      This one is pretty good, though. Leaves ya wondering:

      Is the speaker a Zombie become just one of millions, or that last victim of the Horde?

      Either way, it’s an eerie feeling at the end.

      Comment by cdugger on March 22, 2010 @ 5:01 pm

    2. Wow, that was awesome! Really vivid imagery.

      Comment by Poops McGee on March 23, 2010 @ 9:16 pm

    3. Poetry does not usaully do it for me but this captures the mood well. Thanks!

      Comment by Mac on March 24, 2010 @ 10:01 am

    4. Thanks guys!!

      Comment by Eileen on July 20, 2010 @ 11:15 pm

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