And Now, The Apocalypse

Jungles were overgrown
with rotting Corpses
Rivers of warm blood
flowed free
The smell of rotting flesh
filled ones nostrils
As the screams of tortured souls
lingered on

They were never prepared
for the end
They were never told
that they would die

Was that the back of the Blue Bus
they were told to meet on?

by Pamela Vaughan

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