They Were Pests


They scurried across the ancient hallways.
The dimly lit sun shone on the faded
walls, with their cracked yellow daisies.
Paint flakes litter the floor like petals forgotten.

Outside, the house meanders through the brown ocean.
An ocean with water as thick as chocolate
that sludges the sides of the once white house.
It slaps the children that are painted
and rips the dull, red balloons from their hands.
The green clouds look on and turn their backs
against the bright, yellow sky.

The pests make their way to the kitchen
where opened jars of peanut butter lay in waste.
Their little legs lap around the smashed jellies.
The table that lays in the center of the void
that was called the living room
has a yellowed newspaper with a big, bold
header— to which a cockroach crawls over.
That pest attempts to read the title which read:
Nuclear deterrence, the ultimate answer.
It cannot read, as it is not expected to.
It simply sees the two men shaking hands
and smiling about their final solution.

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