Gone Nuclear

Gone Nuclear

I’m struck mute by you,
You self-proclaimed
Wasteland.

I hear shots in the
Distance
Of your few flaws.

Where others see nothing,
I see a breath
Where the soil expands.

I see what it
Wouldn’t be unreasonable
To believe others percieve.

All this wonderful
Radiation
Is the corrupted rain I bathe in.

Acid streaks down
And puddles the suburb
Where you went nuclear.

You glowed brilliantly
As a star
Died upon colliding with this ground.

Trekked upon
The cracked concrete
Were all manner of scavengers.

Where I seemed to be the only
One with an eye
On what mattered.

You, the soil.
And I am but another scavenger
Who grazes the surface of your face.

I am just another scrap collector
Who salvages remains
Of the things you had razed.

I survive
In the radiation. I survive
As a pioneering figure.

Maybe I’m a legend to these
Other blind souls, but to you,
I am just another scavenger.

One more blinking
And wide-eyed citizen
Of the world you purified.

A world without dressings.
Boiled down to the easiest
Way to understand.

Which is thus:
You are unappreciated.
And so I must be, too.

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