The Wastelander.

I am a video game nerd, so I made this poem while playing Fallout 3. I just try to outline the feelings I had for the character I was controlling throughout the hunt for his dad.

The wasteland is a barren land.

Full of danger and surprise.

A plain full of sand.

Death with a perfect disguise.

 

The wastelander strides across the broken ground.

Cracked and mauled from the disaster.

Moving quietly so he didn’t make a sound.

Yet his footsteps became faster.

 

His dad leaving safety seemed ignorant.

Giving up his only son.

To this decayed land he is an immigrant.

His patience is about done.

 

Marching up the stairs to where he knows his dad hides.

Answers are his only motive.

Hoping that he won’t just tell him lies.

There he sit among his votive.

 

Why!? The son shouts.

The dad could only look back in regret.

To a familiar face that pouts.

An expression that he will never forget.

 

As the son walks out of the door.

His own decisions he must make.

To continue his own lore.

And to never fake.

Reviews

[Darksummerswind]

I love this poem! Especially because I like Fallout.