The Death of Man

February 13, 2014

Once there was only man and himself.

Relying on only his mind and his stealth.

Believing in only him and his made up gods.

He soon realizes he needs more to face the rising odds.

So he thought up monsters of metal and danger.

Causing him to have crude and mean behavior.

Fire, shoot, kill, and destroy.

Years and years of using them like a toy.

All has calmed as he finally dies away.

Empty buildings and ruins are all the lay.

Killed be the things in which he created.

All hope in man has far from faded.

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.