The World Ends

A/N: I recently completed The Compound by S.A. Boden (an excellent story; you must read) and was inspired to write a set of poems under the theme of an apocalypse. Many of these poems are centered around the event itself, some akin to T.S. Eliot's The Hollow Men (an excellent poem) and may include some violent themes. Be warned. (I'm only saying this on the slim chance that someone is sensitive to such events... I myself would not write the gruesome, gory details of an apocalypse, if such was the case. Sorry, that isn't my cup of tea. For the majority of readers, you aren't going to be forever scarred by the poem. You never know though... pen is mightier than sword. ;)) Enjoy! 

P.S. You may or may not understand the clues I give you... Nevertheless, I hope you can feel the seriousness of these poems. 
P.P.S. I do sincerely hope you read the book I mentioned above! Amazing book, and give the poem a shot as well. You may not understand it, but I hope you can still appreciate it. 
P.P.P.S. There are only two poems. But they're pretty long, hehe. :D 

Parade to the End 

Here come the horns, 

the blaring, boisterous horns, 

gallant and resonant, 

why won't you listen to those horns? 

Here come the marchers, 

the pounding, stomping, 

running marchers, 

beating their drums

and shouting their chants, 

why won't you follow the marchers? 

Here come the banners, 

the red flag, 

the blue flag, the green

what wonders they mean, 

Held high, held triumphantly, 

yet with a twinge of dread,

why won't you pay mind to the banners? 

Here comes the gun shot, 

breaking the silence, breaking the tranquil, 

pierce through the hearts,

 through the ears, 

through the minds, 

why won't you cower from the gun shot? 

Here come the dancers, 

twirling and skipping, 

escaping each others' embrace, 

and being trapped yet again, 

Slender, sly figures, 

why won't you slip by the dancers? 

Alas comes the end, 

the one big finalemon 

The finish, the nostalgia,

the tears, the smiles,

the encouragement,

Here comes the end for

all. 

The Broken Glass

Mother warned the children, 

don't touch the glass, 

the sharp shards, the penetrating edges, 

those that peel away

who you are. 

She swept the glass

yet it came again, 

she tossed the glass 

into the trash, 

and still it arose, 

omnipotent and omniscient, 

conquering all her efforts.

They side-stepped 

and slipped around,

like dancers with the 

most intricate feet

But the glass that

shattered on the floor, 

shattered those who stepped

on that floor 

And in through the hearts,

in through the minds, 

in through the legs, the arms, the feet

came that glass, 

that broken glass, 

that peeled away, 

who they were. 

Grandmother touched the glass, 

the broken glass,

that glass that poisoned all

She touched, she studied,

she tried to fix, 

and in the end, 

the glass touched her

and her drooping eyes closed

forever. 

Her friend, she came inside, 

walked and turned, then tried to hide

for this glass, this broken glass, 

spread more pain

than the gunshots that ran

when she tried to use that glass