A sultry silence crevicing into a scary size;
A maverick malice hovering like a hound,
Not a drop to quench the thirsty ground.
The scene seemed so ugly and sad,
The death fires danced happy and glad.
Surviving in the ocean of blood and gore,
Daring death and bearing the furore;
Stood a fern, weak and frail,
Breathing in death with every inhale.
His boughs giving a tired glimpse,
His eyes a witness to an awful apocalypse.
A rage he suffered over the years,
Left his life in tatters and tears.
Deathly battles and sinful battalions,
Snatched from him, his beautiful companions.
Lonesome now, he ranted and raved,
Dreaming of the golden times he craved.
So insane the annihilation could be,
So hard a code to decipher it could be;
It could make you moan and make you cry,
It could give life to death and cause life to die;
And banish the earthlings into an evil exile,
Like the fern,
Leaving many a lone survivors to stand by.
