Of riots
Of wars
Earth was ripe with squalor
The human populace
Somehow survived
Although tasked
Hungered and bitter
The end was predicted
By the prophet's words
The scholars
Had all denied
The eventuality
That did come
The smoke rose so high
Above the fields
Empty of grain
Bereft of color
Many tried to run
Trying to escape
Never fast enough
To escape fate
The locusts were unleashed
Violence and terror their power
Messengers of the end
The appointed hour as ordained
By the prophet's words
Came without delay
The dead bodies remained
Exactly as they fell
We, the sheep, feared
Fled mindlessly
As the beasts of hell
Poured out their violent fire
The remnant survivors
Scattered
Lives shattered
By the harvest
Great was the yield
With their bitter tears
They ran
Across the sparse fields
Destroyed by blight
The last paragraph
Of the final chapter
Of the eternal story
Was about to conclude
We were exhausted
No energy left
There was nothing
That gave the flesh
Anything inside
Left to flee
The famines
And plagues
And wars
Had all drained resistance
And hope
We hungered, yet
Could not be satiated
The hunger raged like cancer
A world exhausted of life
Cast out the human burden
The black clouds rose
Streaming upward
Cloaking the oncoming
Armageddon of violence
As it prepared to deliver
The remnant population's birthright
The locusts reacquired targets
Hovering loudly
Circling above the remnant few
The locusts held us prisoner
By their hateful flight
"And out of the smoke locusts came down on the earth
and were given power like that of scorpions of the earth."
Bible: Revelation 9-3
