Wonderment of the Ending of the world
He, with his questioning eyes watch my ascent into my mind. He watches, confused as I am consumed with the fires and brimstone falling around me, of the falling cities and the screaming children. His eyes gloss over the pain and blood, only wondering why I am not coming to him, giving him what he wants, why I ask, scream, beg for the savior we need. The beautiful people walk around with sunglasses covering their eyes as the world crumples in pain. The burning buildings fall in pieces, and they smile and walk around the rubble. The day the glasses are removed, they will wish for the simplicity the glasses provided, they will beg to go back to the familiar ignorance of the terrors and crushing stone, and once they find they cannot go back, cannot unsee what has been seen, they will fall into their once unoccupied minds and wonder why the ones they used to love are watching them with questioning eyes
