Mushroom

There it is
I pulled the pin.
I watched the cloud
Go from thick to thin.

The flames roared
And devoured hope.
It's thirst only quenched
By a gas soaked rope.

Heat and ash fall.
In the wind they blow
To my field of green,
Burying seeds I've sowed.

Shockwave shimmer
A sea of shrapnel.
Walk the road bare foot.
I've never been rational.

Agony of choice
In apocalyptic fervor
Charred black, sharp bones
It's basically murder.

But there it is
I did, I pulled the pin.
And I wipe the ash
Into my hair and skin.