(no subject)
there were so many possibilities back then. never was apocalypse such a beautiful and promising sunrise. as the plants weaved their way through the ruined cities, filtering the polluted water, absorbing it into their stalks creating misshapen, discolored and mutated flowers, i was able to sit and watch the spectacle. sit and sigh my breath of relief that i had little, if anything to really worry about.
the flowers were unacceptable, however, and were cut down, littering the ground with a myriad of petal which once were. symbols of what could have further been. yet now, are not. will not become.
the masonry continues to crumble, however, and soon enough will the light shine through the crumbled edifices to the plant-pests that were meant to not exist. they resist and strive best they can. fighting through the layered concrete, struggling to entrench themselves in whatever root-hold they can find to live, and ultimately break apart that which we so foolishly call "permanent".
the flowers were unacceptable, however, and were cut down, littering the ground with a myriad of petal which once were. symbols of what could have further been. yet now, are not. will not become.
the masonry continues to crumble, however, and soon enough will the light shine through the crumbled edifices to the plant-pests that were meant to not exist. they resist and strive best they can. fighting through the layered concrete, struggling to entrench themselves in whatever root-hold they can find to live, and ultimately break apart that which we so foolishly call "permanent".