Another poem

[svaenohr]

Not as good as the one before, in my opinion. But alright.

"The End"
By = Pi (Tristan A. Arts)

In the quiet remains of civilization,
There is movement.
One lone figure, kneeling,
Staring at the sun.

There it sits,
A bright light in a dark sky,
Warming nothing.

Despite his movement,
There is no sound.
He screams, but makes no noise.

He falls to his hands,
Weeping silently.
His fingers trace shapes in the soil.
They are words.
"Abandon hope."

He falls to his side,
Hoping for sleep,
But the pain never ceases.
His lungs are constantly screaming with pain.
Neither relief nor sleep will come.

He drags himself to a nearby stone,
And carves another mark into it.
He laughs, silently, madly;
It has been only a month.

He stares at the sun,
The pain of it barely bothers him.
All that remains is to wait.
Wait, and hope it is not in vain.
Wait, and hope for death,
As his body struggles to breathe the void.