Apocalypse

The atmosphere is black with crime,
 
The sea weeps tears of grief,
 
The fields grow barren over time,
 
Death sweeps the ocean reef.
 

 
The animals have left this world,
 
No birdsong can be heard,
 
For years no petals have unfurled,
 
We speak no honest word.
 

 
The setting sun cannot be seen,
 
For clouds of misery loom,
 
If only we had been less mean,
 
We could have escaped our doom.
 

 
                   By: Oona
 
                            &
 
                        Niamh
 

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