Death Be Not Proud
We lost another one to their Plague.
First it finished off our fastest runners, then it shocked our slowest into submission, today it took away our transports. We've been abandoned, doomed, marked for extinction. And still our leader paints desperate slogans on the walls - "DO NOT ABANDON HOPE" - "HELP EXISTS" - "THE STRONG SURVIVE". These fool few. It is the end times; the Old Guard is gone, and from the distant shores comes the distinctive shouting of The Outsiders, ready to consume our decaying souls.
How many more will fall? We hope, we pray, we wish, we cry out that some will make it through, that some will strive for life beyond the Plague, and yet, we wonder - if we survive, what kind of life will this be, underneath The Outsiders? It is guaranteed that, on the surface, our society will change. And thus we hope that inside we can remain the same.
The Outsiders - long have we heard of their existence, seen glimpses of their shapes, felt the weight of their approaching burdens. But every day we doubted, every day we blinded ourselves to the leader's stubbornness, every day we wistfully ignored every sign, every scent, every sound of the oncoming Plague Years. If only we had prepared, if only we had cared.
Is it too late? The leader would have us believe we can overcome, we can mend, we can carry on. But it is too dismal a reality, too impossible to fall so blindly to not realise our approaching demise. This world is gone.
Yes, it is time to get new bike tires, flip-flops, and backpack.
It is truly tragic.
First it finished off our fastest runners, then it shocked our slowest into submission, today it took away our transports. We've been abandoned, doomed, marked for extinction. And still our leader paints desperate slogans on the walls - "DO NOT ABANDON HOPE" - "HELP EXISTS" - "THE STRONG SURVIVE". These fool few. It is the end times; the Old Guard is gone, and from the distant shores comes the distinctive shouting of The Outsiders, ready to consume our decaying souls.
How many more will fall? We hope, we pray, we wish, we cry out that some will make it through, that some will strive for life beyond the Plague, and yet, we wonder - if we survive, what kind of life will this be, underneath The Outsiders? It is guaranteed that, on the surface, our society will change. And thus we hope that inside we can remain the same.
The Outsiders - long have we heard of their existence, seen glimpses of their shapes, felt the weight of their approaching burdens. But every day we doubted, every day we blinded ourselves to the leader's stubbornness, every day we wistfully ignored every sign, every scent, every sound of the oncoming Plague Years. If only we had prepared, if only we had cared.
Is it too late? The leader would have us believe we can overcome, we can mend, we can carry on. But it is too dismal a reality, too impossible to fall so blindly to not realise our approaching demise. This world is gone.
Yes, it is time to get new bike tires, flip-flops, and backpack.
It is truly tragic.
Labels: awkward
posted by francisco at 8/08/2007 11:07:00 PM
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