Ants Armagedon

A poem about time passing you by

ANTS ARMAGEDDON



Places seem to be so far
when I'm not there.
Wishing time was a blank check
I would love to spend it here.

"Even brick walls crumble," someone chants.
"from the constant footsteps
of the marching ants."

Pedantic fellows question why.
What's this?
There is an answer, still you die.

Can I stay forever,
or will I cry?