This Is The End by Micah Akampurira

 The end, how perfectly biblical it be set in lush gardens green

The heritage of a small village meets a thousand cultures lost, and millions more unseen

And though I fear my time has come to an end, I fear more that it has already

And I am left imperfectly poised to question was humanity ever ready?

I am buttressed in my opinion that all my unthanking and all my unloving was all my undoing, what was that about?

I am left with the putridly bitter taste in my mouth, caused by the fact that I had all the time in the world until…that time run out

Surrounded by the euphoric gardens in the village bright about to be engulfed by the dysphoric blood monster with all its light

Surrounded by evil whispers that highlighted natural selection and luck to discourage a reach out from his hand white

Alas I sit as I sat while I watched them all weightlessly ascend and descend

Alas I sit as He sat and watched me become a repugnant degenerate who engaged in debauchery that flaunted in the face of morality, that I believe made my end

And so, I sit in the bright blooms and in the fair leaves wondering about all my cultures that I did not tend

And the knot in my throat an uncomfortable reminder of the question, why didn’t I love Him back? I will never know because this is the end