An apocalypse reflected on our faces.
Beads of sweat dripping down
Or are they tears we haven’t wept
We glow like cigarettes
being smoked down to the last
Sharpening our bayonets
Fighting for remnants of the past
An orange glow
Lit us up
No time to turn on back.
We are carpenters in a crumbling house.
For full transparency the title and last line is inspired by a reply to a post on Quora