Delivery run,
on the last day of the end of the world.
From fields of flowers,
to roads of automation.
They told us it would happen,
history prophesied,
from monkey bars, we spied them coming.
Their murmur-drumming and buzzing in the clouds drawing closer and closer.
Just let me run these flowers down the road to my mum who I’ll never see after today.
Just give me this one more day to say I love her.
I know all is ending soon,
so I croon my farewell to all I’ve ever known.
I promise to be a good slave on the planet far away.
Soon, my anchor, I’ll carry,
and I shall not tarry long now.
About the Creator
Rowan Finley
Father. Academic Advisor. Musician. Writer. Aspiring licensed mental health counselor. My real name is Jesse Balogh.
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Comments (1)
““But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, but My Father only. But as the days of Noah were, so also will the coming of the Son of Man be.” Matthew 24:36-37 The bots don’t stand a chance.