Mushroom soup

Above our heads that cloud

Mushroom shaped death

With a pyroclastic promise

Of incineration leaving

Nothing but our shadows

That we can only hope

Carries upon it no pain

No suffering as we just vanish

Along with most other

Life and species on this planet

And a nuclear winter

Lasting for many long years

But with no one to mourn

No one to shed a tear

I take no joy in spreading fear

But have no faith in those who rule

I will take no pleasure if I am right

As humanity succumbs to eternal midnights

No ringing of church bells

No tombstones

Over which to dwell

A thousand years from now

The planet will heal

And with no human species

This earth will grow very well

In time nobody will even know

Or be able to tell

That the miracles known as human beings

Here used to dwell

As we will be a myth

But written in no books

And told in no stories

For they like us will fail to exist.

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