By: Mohamed Idris

The cold wall behind me,

Is eating away at me.

Just like everything else,

In this wasteland.

The Canned Food they give us,

Might as well be the dirt we build on.

The happy cries above long gone,

Replaced by dreaded screams,

Of those unfit for the regime.

I wish I could have stayed behind,

But that was impossible.

The stench was too much to bear,

The aroma still around me.

At least they were not those things.

Now, the fallout is no more…

In theory.