A father's death nourishes pest and soil,
Lead is planted to grow fallow land,
And the Earth… has stopped spinning.

The horizon vomits bile of flame,
Consuming all the while,
And the skeletons of family homes bleed a sad remorse
While lamenting plaster tears as brick falls to the Earth.

Steel Titans lie defeated next to the hopscotch grid,
And if they could speak they would tell a horror story
From the perspective of their one Cyclops eye,
Of how they clashed with men and swam in rivers crimson.

Sunshine looms just above the ground,
Lightly caressing asphalt as it engulfs men,
It raises blisters and surfaces blood,
And its victims drown in melted lung.

A symphony comes to mind, a ballad or ode to Hades,
As steel plays a scale on arterial tissue,
Always followed by a piercing high note,
Or sometimes a soft gurgle and a fade to a silent end.

Shadows adhere to walls with grimaces of shock and awe,
As cornea is incinerated and retina is liquefied,
People are turned to dust, from which they came,
And fungus towers above the earth,
As it all concludes in one... Swift ...Wave